


Maybe Baby

by nileflood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: sabriel_mini, M/M, Mpreg, Office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nileflood/pseuds/nileflood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is an up-and-coming young man within the legal profession, with a good job and prospects in an international firm. He’s sensible and level-headed, and as such when he shared a drunken moment with the janitor of their office, it throws him. He would have gotten over it, probably, if said janitor hadn’t then told him he was pregnant. Sam’s life quickly descends into chaos as he tries to work out if he really has knocked-up a gold-digger, or if things aren’t really as bad as all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I owe a great deal of thanks to my beta-reader Casness, who did an amazing job in a very short amount of time, and to lynndyre, who is a wonderful artist!

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v294/lynndyre/?action=view&current=MaybeBaby_thumb2.jpg)

**CONCEPTION**

**“This is when the magic happens.”**

 

Sam Winchester did not do things like this. His brother was the type of person that would have a drink then hit on someone, sleep with them and by the next day forget all about it because that was just how he was. Meaningless sex was Dean's forte, Sam didn’t have sex outside of relationships.

 

He could blame it on the champagne. He _should_ blame it on the champagne, he’d had three helpings already but his boss kept refilling his glass and Sam was terrible at saying no. Besides, it wasn’t everyday that the company paid for something like this, hiring a banquet hall and laying on a meal for their employees, giving them champagne and wine, all because they’d won some national award that Sam hadn’t even known they had been nominated for. But that wasn’t the point.

 

The point was that there was lips at his jaw, kissing and nipping and sighing into his skin, another man’s slim hips rocking into his, wanton noises filling the evening air. He shouldn’t let himself be distracted, but there was some smell in the air too, something rich and deep, almost floral and it just seemed to surround them, to spur them on, especially as the other man bumped their hips together more insistently now, groaning as Sam grabbed at his ass and forced him up.

 

Forced him up a lot, actually. Sam knew he was freakishly tall, but this guy was shorter than average, not that it held him back, gripping and climbing and clinging to Sam and wanting more. He was sandwiched between the cold stone wall and Sam’s body, using the wall as leverage to force himself up as their trousers were forced down and Sam’s cock sprang free. 

 

Sam Winchester did not do things like this. He did not press his fingers into the tight, welcoming hole of a complete stranger outside where any of his colleagues might find them. But he was doing it, he was enjoying it too, fucking the guy on that single digit as the small man bucked, groaned and whimpered, hissing encouragement.

 

Maybe he should do things like this more often, the champagne said. A second finger sliding in besides the first and twisting, feeling the man shudder against him, trying to spread his legs still further, hooking one thigh over Sam’s hip, clinging to his shoulders as more fingers were added, thrusting and spreading, the shorter man’s breath hitching in his throat.

 

“Fuck me already.”

 

Sam wasn’t about to say no to that, shifting and holding the other as best he could with one hand, spitting into the palm of the other, grasping his straining cock. He’d not known how badly he wanted this, how much he’d needed it before, before this guy had sidled up to him at the free bar and they’d started flirting.  But if the way his dick throbbed as he slicked himself was anything to go by, he’d been relying on his own hand too long. He slid in, going nice and slow but his companion had other ideas, rocking his own hips and impaling himself on Sam’s cock.

 

It didn’t take long. Sam was out of practice and he said so, between panting and moans, the other man laughing breathlessly as he tipped his head back, rocking them together again and again, hotter than the sun and so tight Sam could hardly think.

 

“No, it’s good kiddo, so good....” the other muttered, stroking over himself as Sam kept them held against the wall, before tipping his head back against whatever greenery was growing up the side of the building, the quiver of his hips and the splash of warm over Sam’s front a sure sign of his orgasm.  Sam’s own came moments later, still buried deep inside the other man, and for a long moment his mind was blank. At least until there was fingers in his hair, stroking and murmuring at him, and they pulled apart.

 

Sam went home shortly after. The front of his tuxedo was covered in the other’s come, and there was sweat running down his spine. He could hardly sit around with his senior colleagues like that until the early hours.

 

 

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v294/lynndyre/?action=view&current=wallsexSabriel_colour.jpg)

 

  **5 WEEKS**  


**“Pregnancy symptoms can leave you feeling sick, ridiculously tired and rather overwhelmed.”**

 

It wasn't every day he stayed late. There wasn't any need to- Sam preferred to get into work early, before anyone else and got whatever work done that needed doing. It was better that way, leaving his night free for sitting at home, relaxing with a good book. But tonight was different. There was a meeting that he had to prepare for, as well as his normal workload and the finishing touches to his report. In the end he was there alone, beavering away, the only light on in the build the florescent strip-lighting in his office. Not that he cared; too busy to notice that the hands on the clock crept slowly around, past 6pm, 7pm, 8pm. In fact it was getting on for 10:30pm by the time he'd finished his final draft for his presentation, reading it through and promising himself to come in early again the next morning and go over it again with fresh eyes. He could hardly focus now as it was and that was no way to work, especially off-the-clock.

 

He saved everything, shutting the computer down and fighting his way into his coat, stumbling towards the lift bank, the motion sensing lights flashing on before him and highlighting his way. Apart from the pool of lights at the lifts themselves. He'd thought he was the only one left so late, but he’d been wrong. There was another poor soul still here at this ridiculous hour, wrapped up in a khaki jacket and a scarf and wearing scuffed sneakers. Someone who had popped in to finish something off, no doubt. The other man glanced towards him as Sam came closer, offering a slight nod of the head and quickly glancing away. He had sand-brown hair, swept back from his face, longer than Sam's, brushing the collar of his jacket and while Sam might have thought the look on anyone else looked unprofessional, this man, this short man, seemed to pull it off. Then again, Sam wasn't even seeing right anymore, the edge of his vision slightly blurred. But even so he was sure he knew the guy. Clearly he worked here, but Sam thought it was more than casual acquaintance from the cafeteria.

 

But he couldn't work out from where, he was distracted by the ping of the lift as it arrived on the fifth floor, and the short man stepped in first, huddling himself in one corner, leaning casually against the mirrored walls. Sam didn't mind waiting a half-second to follow; it at least allowed him a moment to ogle the other man. He didn't often check people out. It was rude and uncouth and made people uncomfortable and Sam spent his entire life trying not to impose himself on people, trying to make his giant frame smaller and less bulky, trying to be less loud when he laughed. But he was tired, and it was only a quick glance, a motion that he couldn't help, a flicker of his eyes over the other's back, down towards that ass and what he saw wasn't bad. But then the guy was turning and Sam pulled his eyes back up to a respectable level, trying not to catch the stranger's attention. He still couldn't place him as they began slow process downwards, but then the memory came to him suddenly, hitting him like a punch to the gut; the head tipped back in the darkness, and bright amber eyes lidded in pleasure. The same amber eyes that he avoided now. That were avoiding him.  

 

Sam could feel the color draining from his face, being replaced suddenly with a rush of pure heat. The other seemed to notice, probably because the temperature in the lift had just rocketed, and was looking at Sam now with a mixture of amusement and regret.

 

“That forgettable, kiddo?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

It was like a challenge, but Sam could find no words, stumbling for an apology, something that would express his shock and his belief that, at best, the short brown-eyed man was someone he’d never see again and at worst was a figment of his drunken imagination.  He’d never expected the man worked at the company, hadn’t ever seen him before. But it hadn’t been forgettable, not at all.

 

And then there was another ping, the sliding grating noise of the lift doors opening on the ground floor, and then Sam found himself alone, the other man striding out through the lobby as the lift doors shut and took Sam down to the empty concrete parking lot below.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t dwell on it. He let it go. Just like Dean. Dean didn’t let run-ins with his exes spoil his evening, and even if Sam found himself reaching for a bottle of beer instead of his usual spring water, well, it was late and he deserved a treat for all the hard work he’d done. His dreams weren’t filled with hurt amber eyes, by brown-haired heads tossed back in passion, no. There was no vision of hands gripping his shoulders tight and the smell of flowers and skin bathed in the cold light of the moon. Who was he kidding?

 

Of course he over slept. It was inevitable, really, after the images that filled his mind. He spent longer in the shower than he would have normally, trying to catch his breath as he leaned back against the tiles, his hand flying over the arched weight of his cock, full in his fist. He came once, but it wasn’t enough, didn’t bring him the satisfaction and the relief that he needed, so he turned, leaning his free arm up on the tiles, focusing on the grout between them and sucking in a breath as he imagined those eyes again, mischievous, glancing up at him as red, kiss-swollen lips cradled the head of his dick. That did it. His toes curled and he groaned, bones melting. Never mind that it took him ten minutes longer than usual and that to make up the time he rushed his morning ritual, skipped breakfast and drove to work as quickly as he dared.

 

He almost expected to see the man in the elevator again that morning and have to deal with the embarrassment of meeting with those eyes that probably weren’t as beautiful or as talented as his fantasy led him to believe. He didn't see him though. He rode all the way up to the fifth floor, his heart-beathitching each and every time they stopped for people to wander in or out, certain that the man would be there, looking at him reproachfully. It never was and the other occupants of the lift, he was certain, were beginning to glance over, as if there was something wrong with him. Maybe there was. He shouldn't have been so preoccupied with seeing the man again. He shouldn't lose his focus. He shouldn't have considered spending his coffee break looking in on the other offices on the fifth floor, trying to catch sight of the military jacket tossed over a chair, or hear that voice- saying something bitter and sarcastic or laughing, because oh god that voice was made to laugh. 

 

 

**11 WEEKS**

**“Your baby’s fingers and toes are fully formed, and they can now stretch and kick.”**

He didn't see the guy that day though. Or for the latter half of that week. Or at all in the next week. Occasionally he wondered if the guy was avoiding him, but they were both grownups and really, it wasn't that big a deal, was it? He was probably busy, just like Sam was. There were a couple of graduates that he had to take under his wing, Dean was about to get kicked out his apartment for some violation of his tenancy agreement, one of the CEOs was going to coming to visit and Sam had been charged with preparing everything. Frankly, Sam didn't have the time to think about the nameless guy, so he didn’t.

 

By the time everything had calmed down a little bit, he had two weeks leave. He was more than overdue it. It gave him time to potter around his apartment, rearrange the black leather sofas in his living room, alphabetize his bookshelves, put together his frayed nerves and collect his thoughts. He could see his brother, his friends and Bobby, be normal for awhile.  And to forget all about what had happened in that elevator, at the party, in his head. It was better that way.

 

He went back to work refreshed, bright eyed, bushy tailed and with a smile on his face. He waved at his colleagues, he made idle chitchat with a girl from the sixth floor, and he hummed contentedly to himself as he fired up his computer and flicked through the pile of letters and memos clogging up his in-tray. A lot of it was quickly dropped in the recycling bin, of little or no importance but there was one sheet of paper that held his attention. It was vivid purple, a post-it note and certainly not an official communication. And all it said was "I have to speak with you" in large, elegant script. Sort of curvy and twisty, like calligraphy would be if it was done with an old blue biro. He didn't know that handwriting and couldn't imagine why anyone would need to speak to him, why they hadn't left a name. Why they hadn't just sent him an internal email or left a voicemail message. He might be a legal assistant to one of the senior partners, but there wasn’t anything shady he could have been involved with, nothing that anyone would want to speak to him about anonymously. 

 

Not that he had any time to worry about it, his manager's self-righteous, bald head poking through the door, forcing Sam back in at the deep-end with a conference call to the London office and Crowley, his European counterpart with the smug, knowing voice that grated like nails on a chalk-board. 

 

The only relief came half an hour into the call when the lights flickered above and then, suddenly, the monitor in front of him went black and the Englishman's voice died mid-sentence. There was at least the morning sunshine that prevented the room descending into total darkness, but the blinds at the windows still made the place eerily gray. He pulled off the headset, dropping it to the desk and slumped forward, groaning softly and rubbing at his eyes. Crowley gave him a headache. No doubt the man was brilliant; a demon in the courtroom by all accounts, but his obsession with his tailor was not something that needed to be discussed on company time.  After a moment of imagining Crowley's dismay though, his assumption that Sam had hung up on him, his inevitable complaints about the insolence of Americans, Sam lifted his head, feeling better. The office was still gloomy, shafts of light filling the air and highlighting the floating particles of dust. But beyond them, at the door, there was a figure. In dirty overalls, hands in pockets, his amber eyes bright despite the darkness.

 

"Hells, I thought that guy was never going to get off the phone," he said, rolling his eyes and stepping into the room, almost swaggering. Sam thought it was strange, certainly not the sort of swagger that Dean used, but one that tried to mask nerves. Sam thought it was sort of, well, cute was the wrong word. There was much about the man that was cute. Sure he was shorter than Sam, who wasn’t?, but he held himself in such a way that made Sam think that uneasiness was not something he usually suffered from.

 

"Er, can I help you?" he asked, as the man kicked the door shut. He was going to be berated for not recognizing him in that elevator, for avoiding the guy he didn’t even know, he was certain of it. It would have been sort of funny, the short man taking a piece out of six-foot-four Sam Winchester, if there wasn't that uncertainty in the air, that tension.

 

"I think you've helped yourself to enough already." The answer was quick, quick as a whip and Sam felt himself blush again. It must have been obvious, because the man melted into laughter, slumping into a chair on the other side of the desk and slouching in it. And that was when Sam realized. The overalls. The dirt smudged over the sleeves, over the guy's face. The name badge. He should have known.

 

"Wait. You're the janitor?" he asked, flabbergasted.

 

The man rolled his eyes, but the smile remained on his lips. He features were really sort of attractive. Not like those of a model or a rock-star, but alive and cheeky, warm. Like they had been that night, outside under the stars. Like Sam had remembered them as being. "Yes, I'm the janitor. But you can call me Gabriel."

 

"But you were in a tux. At the party...." Oh god. He sounded so... privileged. So condescending. He didn't have time to take it back, to explain that he thought the party was only for certain sorts of employees, the management and office-workers. He had no time to explain at all, no time to make what he meant clear because that smile evaporated, lips becoming a thin line.

 

"Yeah. I can rent a tux just as well as the next guy. I guess I should have taken a broom with me, right?" The tone was suddenly bitter, intense and it made Sam cringe. "Well, that's my lesson learnt. Oh, and I should probably let you know that you're going to be a dad. But don't worry, I might only be a janitor but I can look after myself. I'm not going to be expecting anything from you." He was up from the chair then, back towards the door. "Don't worry about the power. It's only this floor. It'll be back on before you can say great big bag of dicks."

 

Sam couldn’t move for a long moment, frozen to the chair as the door shut behind Gabriel. His brain seemed to have just stopped working, stopped processing any new information. He knew what it meant, the realization of it as heavy on his shoulders as a ton of bricks but he couldn’t believe it. Yes, once was all it took and it didn’t need to be romantic and slow or anything like that. He knew that. A quick meaningless fuck up against a wall could have the same result as any other night of passion. He knew that too. He _knew_  it. But somehow it was impossible to grasp that it was happening to him and not to Dean. God only knew how Dean had come out of so many trysts and one-night stands smelling of roses.

 

It felt like minutes had ticked by, Sam frozen to his chair, although in reality it had only been seconds before Sam shot up and followed the janitor. “Gabriel, wait!” He was calling out, but the man was gone, no sign of him either up or down the corridor, only a gaggle of his coworkers at the water-cooler, their heads turned towards him.  Sam shrank back, into his office, breathing hard as he shut the door behind him, leaning on it with his eyes wide as he tried to work out what to do.

 

There really was only one thing he could do. He called Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

“You _what_?” Dean was asking, his horror fast moving into amusement as he sat on Sam’s couch that evening, shoving chips into his mouth and getting crumbs all over the upholstery. No wonder Bobby was getting sick of sharing his home with the oldest Winchester boy, as well as having to work with him all day at the garage. Sam would have gone mad and killed his brother a long time ago, if they didn’t live on opposite sides of the city.

 

“I had a one night stand and knocked the guy up, Dean. This isn’t funny.”

 

“The _janitor_. The janitor is the important bit, Sammy. And you have to admit, it is sort of funny. I mean, you’re the boss’ little minion and everyone in that building knows who you are, and he’s the janitor who you probably walk past every day but you don’t know who the hell he is. That’s actually really funny.” 

 

Dean just had a talent, a special talent for making things seem so much worse than they already were. Sam already felt guilty enough, without focusing too much on the difference between their paychecks. Sam always thought he was a people person. He liked to get to know people, to speak to them on equal terms but the fact he didn’t even recognize the man he must have seen a hundred times made him feel like some sort of self-important jackass, someone too important to care about ‘the little people’. 

 

“Please Dean, drop it,” he said, slumping into a chair and holding his head in his hands.  His head was pounding and he felt sick. Speaking to Dean might not have been the best idea he’d ever had.

 

But at least his brother didn’t force the issue, letting it drop and for a long minute the only sound in the room was him munching his way through the bowl of snacks. And then, in a serious voice, one that Sam was grateful for, Dean continued, leaning forward, “Look, you don’t even know this guy. He might not even be pregnant. And if he is, you don’t know it’s yours.  You don’t owe him anything until you know if it is. Face it, he might not even keep it, Sam. Just don’t panic.”

 

That made sense, he guessed. Trust Dean to be the voice of reason in this situation. He nodded, sucking in a deep, calming breath and felt better for it. Much better. “Thanks, Dean. I just... I thought he was going to start asking for money or wanting me to marry him or something.” He smiled, feeling stupid for admitting it, but now it was off his chest everything felt good again. He could cope with this.

 

“Sam, he’d have to be desperate if he wanted you to marry him,” Dean answered deadpan.  His expression only changed when Sam threw a cushion at his face.

 

  **12 WEEKS**  


**“In this final week of your first trimester your baby’s heart will be beating at a pace of about 160 beats per minute, which is twice as fast as your own.”**

 

Dean was a mechanic, but if he’d been a lawyer he probably would have said the same thing; not to bother the guy, not to approach him, not to do anything. Dean was probably right, it was a stupid thing to do because it proved that what Gabriel had told him was still on his mind, was under his skin. It proved he cared. But he did care, he worried, and he felt guilty. He couldn’t stop himself feeling that way either, he wouldn’t have wanted to. This was his fault, if it was true.

 

That was why he was heading downstairs. He’d been to the basement and the staff parking lot. He was in it at least twice every day, in fact, but he’d never really bothered to look past the cars and the smell of oil and the dim, flickering lighting and concrete pillars. He’d seen, but never paid attention to, the little door opposite the lift marked “Danger, Keep Out” – Sam ignored the fact that he’d treated the janitor in the same way; seen him a thousand times but never actually noticed him.  But this was it, the girl on reception had looked it up for him, told him it was the janitor’s office and well, Sam supposed there could be dangerous things like mechanical floor polishers and chemical cleaners in there... but didn’t they have storage cupboards for that? What was so dangerous about an office? Why did a janitor even need an office?

 

He knocked despite his unanswered questions, after clearing his throat and straightening his jacket, trying to look like a reasonable, sane man. A man that could not have fathered a child during some spur-of-the-moment fumble at a work party, drunk on champagne. It just didn’t happen to men like him. Serious, career-focused men.

 

There was a long moment before the door opened, as if Gabriel somehow knew it was him, and was pretending to be out. Maybe Gabriel didn’t want him around, maybe he had suddenly felt the pangs of conscious and wasn’t going to try and claim anything, wasn’t even pregnant but wasn’t ready to admit the truth. It did creak open though, eventually, and Gabriel peeked out, a curious look on his face. It didn’t stay for long, soon replaced by something far less neutral.

 

“What do you want?” He asked, but at least he didn’t shut the door on Sam’s face.

 

“I thought we should talk. Properly.” Well, that was the truth, and the truth was always better in these situations. That’s what Sam believed, even if Dean thought he was an idiot for doing so. “Can I come in?”

 

Gabriel sighed, a deep sigh which plainly said he wanted to say no, but didn’t. He pulled the door open a little more, letting Sam step inside. It wasn’t a poky little box room, like Sam had imagined. Yes, it was full of boxes and tins and bottles of stuff, but stacked away on shelves. There was a couch, a couch!, angled towards a TV set, on mute, and in one corner, covered by a see-through dust-jacket was an ancient computer, one of those off-white ones from the 90s. And next to it, looking much more used, was a mini-fridge, and a toaster.  It was a room belonging to someone who did as little work as humanly possible, or so it seemed.

 

And that just brought it home to Sam. Gabriel didn’t want to work. He bummed around in here, getting paid to watch the news and eat pop-tarts and only coming out when he had to, when something really had to be fixed. He was an opportunist. He’d seen Sam for what he was; quintessentially a good person who would do the right thing, who could be guilt-tripped and played for all he was worth, for money, and Gabriel knew how he was going to do it. Sam could see that now, and he wasn’t about to let it happen, he wasn’t about to let Gabriel make a fool out of him.

 

And Sam was an idiot, because he’d fallen for it head, line and sinker.

 

He straightened himself up again, drawing himself up to his full height. He towered over Gabriel anyway, but now the short man pulled back a little way, trying to stay relaxed but it seemed to Sam that the janitor drew out of arm’s reach, half expecting to be grabbed and worse. That made Sam feel sick again, exhaling and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He was going to stay strong. This guy clearly knew every trick in the book and was going to try and get what he wanted in whatever way he could.  Even so, Sam knew, he didn’t have to try to physically threaten and scare the guy. That just wasn’t right, even if he was being... blackmailed. Or whatever this was.

 

“I’m not going to give you money. Not until there is a paternity test,” he said, and then when the janitor raised both eyebrows at him, Sam realized that he hadn’t exactly sounded like he imagined he would, when he rehearsed his little speech during the drive in that morning.  “You said you didn’t want my help. I’m holding you to that. I didn’t ask for this and if you keep it or not, that’s nothing to do with me.”

 

Gabriel’s face was not a picture of happiness. But he didn’t seem surprised, crossing his arms over his chest. “Was that all you came down here for?” he asked, tone annoyed. “You could have sent me that in a memo. Are we done? Good, because I have stuff to do. Out!”

 

And despite the fact that a minute ago Sam had loomed over the other man in a particularly frightening way, Gabriel was shooing him away like Sam was no more than a rather irritating puppy. He was out of the so-called office and then the door was shut, firmly, in his face. Inside the little room, the mute button was unceremoniously turned off, the volume increased, and despite the thick walls, Sam could still hear the Spanish soap-opera blaring away. Stuff to do, his ass!

 

There was no one about to see him stomp back to the elevators, and back to his own office and actual work.

 

**16 WEEKS**

**“Your baby can be active for up to five minutes at one time now and you may start to feel some slight movement.”**

 

Sam hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the janitor since the man had slammed the door on his face. If he was purposefully avoiding him, Sam was glad of it; he had enough to do without being bothered by irritating liars and gold-diggers. He had work. He had Dean’s whining to put up with on the weekends. Dean had stopped going on about Gabriel, too consumed with his own issues, but that suited Sam fine. It meant he could focus again. He could go back to being himself.

 

Of course, his old self wouldn’t have paused outside the janitor’s office in the basement, or outside every storage closet he walked past, as if the guy was just about to emerge. He wasn’t hoping that he’d bump into Gabriel. It wouldn’t end well if he did, he was certain of that, but even so, part of him hoped....

 

Hoped what? He was going mad, that was obvious. Gabriel was trouble, but he didn’t even have to worry about it anymore. He didn’t have to spare him a thought. Of course, that was an easy mantra to follow during the day, when he had things to do, work to keep him busy and very little reason to leave his office. It was at night that he had more problems.  He needed to get laid more often, he knew that. He needed to find someone nice, some normal guy that he didn’t fuck up against a wall, who wouldn’t make up some pregnancy story. That he could date, normally.  Knowing those things didn’t stop the fantasies though. They came to him unbidden, in the darkness, took control of himand he was along for the ride, feeling those hands, Gabriel’s hands stroke over his chest and down, setting his skin on fire and making his toes curl and his cock twitch. There was nothing, nothing that linked his desire to the janitor, nothing but the flash of amber eyes and that smirk as Sam jerked himself to orgasm. 

 

He didn’t date anyone, of course, never mind his resolution to do so. His life was a continuous cycle of meetings, conference-calls and dealing with his brother; although Dean wasn’t coming around as often as before, but that was how things were. Dean was probably hooking up with some girl. Bobby and his police-officer friend were keeping themselves to themselves. His colleagues didn’t speak to him much outside the office. Which was good. Everyone was getting along with their own lives, and leaving Sam to get along with his.  He could have gone out to a nice bar, try at least to meet some people but... well, he had case-files to put together, briefings to go through. He’d go out at the weekend.  And when the weekend came and went and he did nothing, it was because he was exhausted. Next week wouldn’t be so busy. He’d go out then, he’d meet someone then, he’d settle down with someone later.

 

  **18 WEEKS**  


**“Your little one’s bones are getting stronger so they can kick, roll and flex their little arms and legs.”**

 

It was a Friday night, and it was exactly ten minutes to nine in the evening. Sam Winchester was unaware of these facts because, as usual, he was working. He was focusing; he was burying himself in the contents of his inbox and the pile of folders on his desk that needed reviewing. They could have been done on Monday, but considering Dean had bailed on him, he might as well do them now. He had nothing better to be doing.

 

In the little corner of his mind that he reserved for thoughts like that, he wondered how bitter he sounded. He probably sounded like a nasty, jealous jerk. Dean said he was working late, but when did Bobby’s salvage yard stay open late on Friday night? No, Dean had a date and one he didn’t want to tell Sam about. Not a one-night stand then, but something else. Now, that was ironic. Dean could see someone, but Sam couldn’t even get a sniff of a date. And the only person that he could have had anything approaching a possible relationship, or at least go on a few dates together was a blackmailing opportunist who-

 

There was a crash, sudden and loud in the deserted building and it made Sam jump out of his skin, cracking his knees on the underside of the desk, cursing as he forced himself to get up.  He hadn’t been the only one to curse, and while he limped for a second, the pain in his leg soon wore off, but it hadn’t slowed him down or made him stop, still heading down the corridor and the open space by the elevators. He stopped dead, but only for a second. Gabriel. On his back, cursing. Clearly not too hurt, no one hurt made that much noise (or so Dean always said) but he wasn’t making much of an effort to get up.

 

Sam was stepping forward without thinking. Really he should have just left the guy alone. But he couldn’t do that. That just wasn’t him.

 

The floor tiles were wet, shiny with water and there was the mop, the upturned bucket pouring out its contents- most of soaked up by the janitor’s overalls, by the look of him.

 

“Hey-” Sam began, offering out a hand and trying not to think that the guy looked... well, a little chunkier than he had before. Probably because he was on the floor. “You okay?”

 

“What?” the man replied, blinking up and Sam wondered then if he had hit his head, done some sort of damage. But Gabriel was taking his hand, a grateful expression flickering over his face as he pulled himself up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. I’m just gonna sue this building. Janitor doesn’t even put cones out when he mops,” he muttered, standing a little stiffly, probably because he was soaked to his skin. He rubbed at his back too, although now he realized his little accident had been witnessed he looked as if his pride was more injured than anything else.  He was wearing a sort of half-grin, one that said he knew that he was an idiot, that he probably didn’t expect Sam’s help and he didn’t deserve it, but he was grateful anyway.

 

At least, that’s how Sam saw it.

 

And the guy was chunkier. Not in general, not like someone had just put on weight. But it was sort of, well, centralized. “Christ, you really are pregnant.”

 

Sam wasn’t sure who said the words, but considering the way Gabriel looked at him now, the fact that no one else was there, that there was probably no one else in the building apart from the night security guard, he could only assume that the words had come from him.

 

“Er, yeah?” Gabriel replied, looking away then, embarrassed too. “That’s what I told you. Two months ago, actually.” He glanced away then, and Sam was sure he saw the smaller man shiver.

 

“Right. Yeah. I recall you mentioning it,” Sam muttered, and then, because there was a wave of nausea welling up in side of him, he dashed away. Not far. Just to his office. He didn’t bother to shut the computer down properly, just pulled the plug, grabbed his coat, his briefcase, and headed back. Gabriel had just been staring after him, no explanation for the strange behavior but probably hoping that his child would be normal, or as normal as possible, considering its genetics.

 

Sam thrust the coat at him. “Put it on. It’s cold out there and you’re soaking wet. I’m going to drive you back to your place,” Sam said, righting the mop bucket and leaving it against a wall. There was no one else about, no one else who would slip but that wasn’t his concern any more.

 

“Er- you really don’t have to,” Gabriel was saying, but he was wrapping the coat around him even so. It as far, far too big for him, the dark wool swamping him and if anything, he looked even smaller in it. Delicate, almost.

 

They called the elevator, went down to Sam’s car in silence, and Gabriel slid into the warm, leather interior without a word, but there was a soft noise of appreciation. “They don’t pay you badly, do they?” he asked as Sam folded himself into the driver’s seat, starting the car up.

 

“Not really, no.” It wasn’t exactly a comfortable subject. He could have said something about all the extra hours he pulled, the fact that it was nine on a Friday night and he was still there. But Gabriel was there too, working, and probably not taking home half of what Sam did.  He felt a little like a class traitor. “...I got a scholarship, to go to college and I did law. My dad couldn’t have afforded to send me to school otherwise. And when I graduated, I couldn’t get anything here, not as a lawyer. And I didn’t want to just stay on my brother’s couch and let him pay for everything, because he’d already pretty much brought me up when our dad was out of town, so... I took a job as a paralegal. And worked hard. And that’s how I ended up here.”

 

Why he was telling Gabriel all this, he wasn’t sure.  Because he needed to fill the silence in the car. Because he had to explain why he had money, that he deserved what he had. Because Gabriel was pregnant and it was Sam’s child and yet Gabriel didn’t know anything about him.

 

Then again, Gabriel hadn’t asked, either. Still, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t act like this was weird and that he didn’t want to know. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other nod, pulling the coat a little closer around himself. “I went to college. My family wanted me to do something... smart, you know. Law, accounting, advanced management skills for rich arrogant assholes. Something like that. I did English Lit, and I dropped out before graduation. I didn’t like it much. I mean, I liked being at college, the parties. But the hard work wasn’t my sort of thing. I bummed about travelling for a while....” He laughed then, and Sam risked taking his eyes off the road to see Gabriel rub his hands over his face, wiping over his eyes. “This is not what you want to be hearing. I’m actually a millionaire astrophysicist, but decided to work for a year as a janitor for tax purposes?”

 

Sam couldn’t help laugh at that, before forcing himself to focus on driving again. “That explains it all perfectly,” he said. “I knew that you couldn’t be an ordinary janitor when I saw that gold Rolex. Although I thought you were a spy. Millionaire astrophysicist is better. Now, which way to your mansion?”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam was expecting a dingy apartment, something grotty in a brownstone building that should have been condemned. He’d mentally prepared himself for it, but that wasn’t where they ended up at all. In fact, they ended up outside the city’s center, in green, leafy suburb. In the daytime, it was probably filled with normal, middle-class families doing normal middle-class things.  This wasn’t where he was expecting Gabriel to live at all.

 

“It’s just down there. Second house to the right.” The small man pointed out, sounding tired now, warm and sort of content, but that was in part due to the fact he’d discovered the seat-warmers ten minutes into the drive. He was probably dry now, at least.  They pulled into the driveway, and although the house looked, in the darkness, just like those around it, there was building materials on the lawn, and as Sam helped Gabriel out of the car, he gave him a questioning glance.  “It’s a fixer-upper. Bought it with the money I inherited. Wanted somewhere nice to retire to,” he explained, pulling out a ring of keys from his pocket and led Sam up the porch steps. “You’d better come in. I’ll make coffee.”

 

Sam could have just gone home then. He could have politely declined, could have just gone home and left it there. But he didn’t. He followed Gabriel in.  It was too dark in the hallway to see much apart from the shadow of the stairs, but Gabriel hurried him away from there, under an arch and into a kitchen. The lights were flicked on, and Sam gasped. It was, well, it was beautiful.  He’d expected white and black and chrome, like his own miniature kitchen at home. But this was nothing like that. This was... this was a proper kitchen. There was a range, an actual big range in a little alcove at the far end, an island in the middle with copper pots and pans hanging above it, the sink and ice-box against one wall. It was all wood, golden and green, warm and Sam felt... well, he felt good. It was an odd feeling to have, he guessed, but the place made him feel comfortable. Like he was home, somehow.

 

Gabriel hadn’t waited to see his reaction, already fidgeting with the coffee, passing over a cup and wearing a sheepish little smile. “You okay?” he asked, and Sam fought to find his voice.

 

“I just... I think this is a great kitchen. You have to give me the number of the guys that did it.”

 

“No can do, Sammy. I did it. Built it all up last summer. Had to get this right before I started on the rest.”  The words were proud, that was obvious, but Gabriel didn’t seem to be bragging. He seemed to be happy. Happy that Sam liked it. He didn’t know why he needed the tall man’s approval, but somehow he did. It made him relax a little more, leaning back against the countertop, sipping at his own coffee, and trying not to let his eyes flicker over to Sam, mostly because of the stupid grin on his face.

 

Especially because Sam returned it then, and Gabriel almost dropped the cup in his hand. Almost, but didn’t.  He laughed at himself though, because the near-accident had been pretty obvious, setting the cup down with exaggerated care and slipping off the coat.  He didn’t need it now, and frankly, he was getting a little warm, but he didn’t want to hand it over.

 

"I should thank you for driving me home. I... you can stay for supper if you like. It won't be much but...."

  
  
"I'd like that. If it’s not too much trouble," Sam replied, although he didn't know exactly what had got into him, but he meant what he said.

 

And it was sort of fun too, pottering around in that kitchen, helping Gabriel get things off of higher shelves and then setting places on the little bistro table on the deck out back. It was a simple supper, but it was the company that made it glorious. Gabriel was actually very funny, witty and charming in a way Sam hadn't expected. He was humble too, laughing off compliments and firing them right back at Sam rather than fishing for more, and that was a breath of fresh air. Balthazar would never have been like that, or Meg Masters or Zachariah Adler, of any of the others he socialized with. They were too full of themselves, dazzled by their own successes. Gabriel made him smile, made him feel at ease and time flew by until the cold night air tugged at their clothes and Sam just couldn't hold back a yawn anymore.  
  
"I'm sorry Gabriel, but we should probably call it a night," he said, and saw a flash of disappointment in the other’s features. It was gone in a moment, replaced by Gabriel’s steady grin and a nod of understanding.

 

“Way past my bedtime too, Sammy-pie. I’ll see you out.”

 

Gabriel stood on the steps up to his door as Sammy backed out of the drive, leaning out his window to wave –and then he was gone, into the night.

 

 

**20 WEEKS**

**“Congratulations, as at 20 week pregnant you’re halfway through your pregnancy!”**

 

Sam was used to being woken up by the sound of his phone. Sometimes it was Dean, asking for a lift home or sometimes to say he wasn’t going to need a lift. Once or twice it was one of the interns from the year before, needing advice or just a friendly ear. And sometimes it was work, Crowley or someone overseas, not knowing what time it was and normally very apologetic. Unless it was Crowley himself, who seemed to delight in waking Sam up at some ridiculous time.

 

This time though the number that flashed up on the screen was unlisted. And it wasn’t actually the middle of the night as he’d thought- it was just after eight in the morning. He didn’t normally sleep this late, but he deserved it. Everything had been taking its toll on him, wearing him down and a few extra hours sleep made a surprising amount of difference.

 

Normally he would have debated answering a call from an unknown number- there were only so many cold calls, a man could suffer through. But today he answered without really thinking, still groggy. “Hello?”

 

“Sam? I didn’t think you’d be awake. I... I know that you’re probably busy. But my ride hasn’t turned up and I need to get to the clinic.”

 

Sam blinked. Part of him wanted to know how exactly how Gabriel had got his number. The other part of him heard the hint of worry in the janitor’s voice. “The clinic? Gabriel? What’s wrong?” He was already up and out of bed, the sheets falling down around him and he was already reaching out for pants- they were the slacks from the day before but Sam didn’t care and no one would notice.

 

“What? No. No. Nothing’s wrong. Jellybean and I are fine. It’s routine,” Gabriel said, after a moment’s pause while Sam dropped the cell in an attempt to get his legs into his pants. “So... would you be able to drive me over? Appointment’s at nine fifteen. If you get here for eight thirty, I’ll feed you breakfast.”

 

“Yeah. Sure, not a problem. Eight thirty. I can make that.” It was a promise he was sure he could keep. A glance at his alarm proved he could, if he skipped breakfast and the traffic wasn’t against him. “Gabriel... Jellybean?”

 

“I can’t keep calling it baby all the time, Sammy. So it’s called Jellybean, or Jello, for short. It's blueberry pancakes and chilli sauce for breakfast. Grab some coffee, won’t you? Decaf for me.”  And then there was a dull beep, and Sam dropped the phone back onto the bed, and not for the first time wondered what he’d got himself into.

 

Breakfast wasn’t all that bad. Not once he’d convinced Gabriel that his pancakes didn’t need either chilli or buffalo sauce. Gabriel had never stuck Sam as a morning person, but he was surprisingly organized today, even if he clung to the venti hazelnut latte like a man possessed. The drive across town wasn’t bad either, Gabriel didn’t complain that the radio was tuned into a station that did actual news instead of non-stop classic rock, unlike the only other person Sam ever drove with. In fact, the janitor seemed oddly well behaved and certainly far quieter than usual, although Sam wouldn’t attempt to say that he knew Gabriel well enough to be a real judge.

 

But as they neared the clinic Sam just couldn’t stay quiet any more, the worry built up enough inside him to loosen his tongue. “Gabe? Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, glancing over at the shorter man- one hand on his stomach and the other propped up on the door, against the window.

 

“Hmm? You could hear the cogs turning right? I was wondering if I was doing the right thing. I was... well, look at me, right? You couldn’t get further from perfect parent material if you tried. I’m hardly prepared....” The smile that flashed then was bright but the words themselves were self-deprecating and unexpected. It was enough for Sam to momentarily lose concentration- it was lucky they didn’t hit anything or anyone.

 

“I don’t know about that. You’re funny and you care, Gabriel. And I don’t think-” Sam took a breath, organized his thoughts. “It doesn’t take much to be a good parent, I don’t think. You love your kid, you try to help them the best way you can, you make them smile when they’re sad and you’re always there to back them up. And I can’t see you failing at any of those.”

 

His right hand slipped from the wheel then, reaching out and carefully touched Gabriel’s left. “You’re not the only one who wasn’t prepared. But I’m here too, okay? Right behind you.”

 

And that seemed to clear the air. Gabriel’s smile became more relaxed again, just this side of cheeky, and he leant forward, changing the radio station and turning up the volume till GaGa echoed through the car. 

 

Gabriel was still humming Bad Romance when he was called into see the doctors, leaving Sam outside with his jacket and a collection of year-old decorating magazines.  It didn’t bother him much, even if this really wasn’t what he’d imagined he’d be doing on his day off. Moping around his apartment really didn’t hold much appeal, at least not when he could be listening to Gabriel talk excitedly about the way he was decorating the spare room, the furniture he was going to get, the design that he had in his head. There was an energy to him that Sam hadn’t seen before in anyone, vibrancy in his words and his gestures that had made Sam laugh- and that was enough to startle him too. Dean laughed but it wasn’t something Sam had done for a while- he’d not had the chance or the reason to until now.

 

It was certainly food for thought, and it occupied him until footsteps came towards him. “Kiddo?” Gabriel prompted, a brown envelope in his hands and a little smile on his face.  Sam was reaching up to take it, fingers just catching on the envelope when the doors at the far end of the corridor opened and slammed back into the walls with an almighty bang.

 

“Gabriel!” The call reverberated off the carefully scrubbed walls, a frantic noise as a man in a trench coat strode towards them. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, his tie loose around his throat, his shirt badly tucked in, his hair everywhere and he hadn’t shaved.  He marched towards them with purpose, and as he got closer it was clear that he was out of breath, his blue eyes round with worry.

 

“I did not realize that I had slept in, I am sorry. I am here to take you home.”

 

“Ah... Sam?” Gabriel murmured, recovering quickly enough to realize the need for introductions, “This was my ride, my brother Castiel. Cas, this is Sam. He drove me here, don’t worry.”

 

“Sam?” Castiel repeated, as Sam stood and offered his hand. The blue eyed man blinked at the hand, and took it, although it seemed for a moment he didn’t know exactly what to do with it. “Sam? The father of your child? The one that called you a liar and a gold-digger?”

 

Gabriel visibly cringed, and Sam did too, although Sam did because he didn’t like to hear the words aloud again, ashamed of himself. Gabriel, on the other hand, didn’t like the obvious reminder that he’d gone home one night, called his baby brother and bitched about Sam over a carton of Cookie Dough ice-cream.

 

Sam pulled his hand out of the shake, trying to keep his face neutral. “That was before I knew Gabriel very well.”

 

Castiel blinked those big blue eyes, face just as expressionless but Sam didn’t think that was because he was trying to hide his emotions. He just seemed to look blank naturally. As if he didn’t really feel anything much at all. “But you knew him well enough to sleep with him without protection and leave him carrying your child? I see.”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Gabriel chimed in then, looking both as uneasy and uncomfortable as Sam felt. “That’s enough. Forgiven and forgotten, Cas. Sam’s been a real saint today. He didn’t have to drive me down here. And you don’t have to drop me home, Sam, not if you don’t want to. Castiel can drive me back.”

 

“I cannot,” Castiel said then, his eyes moving from his study of Sam back to his brother, and he seemed to shift uneasily. “I did not bring my car. It is in the shop, regrettably.” 

 

“Again? Cas, just... get yourself a new car already, okay?” Gabriel said, slumping slightly and leaning against Sam’s side. It was a movement that was unexpectedly intimate, but Sam tried not to read anything into it. Gabriel was clearly tired, that was all.

 

“But I like my car.”

 

“Look,” Sam said, feeling more than slightly tired himself and while he didn’t mind spending his day off in a hospital waiting room or ferrying Gabriel around, he didn’t have the patience for this now. “I’ll drop you wherever you need to be, Castiel. But Gabriel’s had a long day and I’ve got a few things to do myself so how about you two continue this later?”

 

That seemed to shut the blue eyed man up, as if he’d just be savaged by a puppy.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel didn’t want to be dropped off anywhere, in the end. They walked to the main entrance and then Gabriel’s brother wandered off, towards the nearest bus stop, and there was a sudden weight against Sam’s side. Gabriel was leaning against him again, more heavily this time, and for a second all Sam could feel was concern, an arm moving around the janitor to support him even as Gabriel’s fingers clung to his shirt front.

 

Then he realized that the fingers weren’t clinging, they were stroking, rubbing over his chest. Gabriel wasn’t pressing close for support, and he wasn’t trembling. He was purring. “Jesus Sam, you need to take control of situations more often. That was so damn hot. Do you think... is there room in your car for us to...?”

 

Sam deserved a medal. He didn’t push Gabriel away and he didn’t even acknowledge the twitch in his pants. “No there isn’t room in my car, Gabriel. I don’t think we should....”

 

“But you want to. Come on. Please? Your place is just around the corner, right?”

 

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Sam said, still feeling the reactions in his traitorous body as Gabriel wriggled closer, his hands moving up to Sam’s shoulders. Sam was certain that he wasn’t the one who leaned down and pressed their mouths together, but he knew the squeak of surprise wasn’t one of his. Gabriel melted against him, fingers clenching and unclenching at his shoulders, trying to press even closer as he opened his mouth to more of that kiss.

 

What harm would it do if Sam gave in? He wanted it, after all. But his brain we just getting too involved. He forced himself to ignore it, and focused on the wanton creature who pawed at him so desperately.

 

They made it to the car simply because Sam could exert some level of self-control outside a busy hospital in the middle of the day. The windows weren’t tinted and they were parked in the middle of the lot, but Gabriel didn’t seem to care, squirming in his seat and setting his hand down on Sam’s leg, fingers working their way along the inside-seam of his pants until he was practically palming Sam’s cock through the fabric.  The car was just too small though; Sam had been considering fuel-economy rather than ease-of-fucking-pregnant-coworkers-in-the-backseats when he’d bought the thing.  Now though he was beginning to realize his mistake. 

 

It took every shred of control Sam had to get them back to his apartment, to bundle Gabriel into the elevator without trying to pull off his clothes.  Gabriel seemed not to care at all that the elevator was a public one- he had his hands up under Sam’s shirt and was kissing him as if he would die if he didn’t. They would have stayed in there if Gabriel had any choice in the matter, but when they reached the right floor Sam managed to get them out, a tangle of heated limbs and whines- from Gabriel at least. There was no one around to hear, thank god, or see the smaller man grind himself against Sam as he fumbled with the key.

 

Sam expected them to roll into the apartment, stumble through the living room shedding clothes like trees in fall and then tumble into bed, hot and heavy and desperate. His cock certainly wanted all of that, was ready for it, but instead of clinging to him like a limpet like he had done the entire way from the hospital, Gabriel slipped in past Sam and looked around, whistling low under his breath.

 

"You didn't tell me you lived in a show-home, Samwich," Gabriel murmured, even as the front door shut behind them. There was no one to disturbed, but the janitor's voice didn't change from that awed whisper. "Seriously... do you always eat over the sink? Don’t you... leave things out? Are you actually human?” Gabriel asked, turning to face his host and there was laughter in his tone, his amber eyes dancing.

 

None of it did Sam’s ego any favors, erection fading slightly as Gabriel shook his head, disbelievingly. Gabriel’s house was beautiful yes, but the kitchen was lived-in, the coffee-table in his living room scattered with papers and a book with a broken spine and there were candy wrappers in the waste basket. The apartment, in black and white, was cold and clinical in comparison. Sam felt his shoulders slump still further, and he was tempted just to call the whole thing off when Gabriel’s hands moved over him again, fingers carefully unbuttoning his shirt.  His expression was wicked, his lips red and swollen and wet from kisses and he leaned in, mouth ghosting over Sam’s bared collarbones.

 

“It’s a lovely apartment but... let’s make it messy.”

 

Gabriel's shirt hung from one of the decorative pieces on the bookshelf, his pants littered the floor somewhere- probably the opposite end of the room to Sam's slacks, but they'd find them all later. Sam didn't much care, there was little he could care about, with Gabriel straddling his lap, the couch groaning under them as they rutted together, Gabriel's head tipped and his back arched. He looked beautiful and glorious, the swell of his stomach so much more obvious with all the layers discarded.  Sam wanted to touch, his hands slipping from Gabriel’s hips to the bump, the rhythm faltering  as Gabriel trembled above Sam, gasping for breath as they slammed together again a moment after he was expecting.

 

His eyes focused; blown wide and more gold now than amber and a grin pulled across his lips. Not his usual smug grin, the sort he wore when he could wind Sam up or frustrate him, but... something else. Sam couldn't place it. But then Gabriel’s eyes flickered down to the hand over his stomach.

 

“You getting soppy on me, Sam-I-Am?”

 

Sam couldn’t let Gabriel get away with that, rocking his hips upwards again, sinking in deep and making the man in his lap writhe. It was glorious to watch and Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, not until Gabriel shuddered against him, come spluttering between them and Gabriel collapsing forwards, groaning praise as Sam’s hips continued to snap upwards.

 

It was later, when Gabriel unpeeled himself from the sofa and from Sam’s arms that the feeling of awkwardness began to seep through Sam.  He gave directions to the shower when he was prompted and sat back. The rush of water wasn’t audible from here, but he could imagine he could hear it. This was the second time. The second time he’d simply been... caught up in the moment with Gabriel.  The first time he might have been drunk, they might both have been drunk but that was no excuse. There was even less reason behind it now. Sam had never thought that he was the sort of man to simply give into his urges, to partake in sex without an emotional attachment. The only thing he and Gabriel had, the only common ground was the child they’d conceived.

 

He was taking advantage of Gabriel. It was the only explanation, really. He wasn’t ready to have a relationship with anyone else, it wasn’t the time and he didn’t have the time, so he was indulging himself with a man who was probably experiencing every hormone and endorphin imbalance pregnancy could provide.

 

He was a terrible human being.

 

**23 WEEKS**

**“You may find you’ve become forgetful and frequently lose your train of thought.”**

 

He’d tried to put it right as soon as he could. He picked up one of Gabriel’s decaf-organic-soy-milk-Swiss-water-filtered coffees on his way into work and brought it down to the Janitor’s office. He wasn’t just eating lunch upstairs anymore. He brought extra and as often as he could tried to find a bit of the day Gabriel wasn’t doing something to eat with him. Although on the days Gabriel dumped chocolate chips into his salad or added wasabi to his BLT Sam was more than happy to let the janitor eat on his own.

 

 They were getting on better. Sam liked Gabriel’s company. He was funny and insightful and could argue his point as well as any of the lawyers that Sam worked with upstairs. Maybe with less finesse, but that was nothing to do with anything. Sam still felt a twinge of guilt every so often, when he realized that they got along- but there wasn’t much else than that. There was sex and laughter and a shared lunch break  and sometimes takeout but nothing more. Gabriel might not have regretted getting into this situation but he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice, Sam was sure of that. That’s why they were both keeping a careful distance. They weren’t together. They weren’t going to be together.

 

It was mid-afternoon on a Wednesday. He’d been on a conference call most of the day and now he had some free-time, he’d gone out for coffee and cookies from the place around the corner. He was heading down the stairs in the main lobby to Gabriel’s little kingdom when he heard familiar mutterings, muffled by a large cardboard box with legs.

 

On closer inspection, it wasn’t a box with overall-coated legs, but Gabriel carrying a box, held close to his front. It was almost as tall as he was, and broader.

 

“Gabriel!” Sam said, setting the coffee down as fast as he could and taking the box- about as heavy and cumbersome as it looked- away from the man. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re going to hurt yourself! Haven’t you been on any courses about lifting and carrying properly? Oh god. Let me take it!”

 

And that was that. Gabriel made some sort of noise of protest, but Sam ignored it, told him it was no problem. He was bigger and stronger than Gabriel, he wasn’t pregnant and Dean would have done this. Would have seen someone carrying, struggling, with a box and he would have carried it for them. Especially if he was the one to get them pregnant.

 

The coffee sat forgotten and cooling on the step as he turned and began to get the box up the stairs. It was typical that the lifts were out of order at this end of the building. But this was the sort of thing he should be doing. Not just for Gabriel.

 

There was a noise from behind him, Gabriel still talking but Sam wasn’t really listening, not as he heard footsteps coming towards them as they got up to the third floor. He knew those footsteps, he heard them back and forth down the corridor outside his office, purposeful and frightening all the interns.  It made him hug up against the wall as far as possible, and hiss for Gabriel to do the same.

 

Meg. Meg Masters.

 

She wasn’t evil, per say, not that anyone could prove, but there was always a brightness in her eyes that Sam found frightening, and she seemed to take a horrible delight in taking on unethical cases no one else wanted. And even when it looked impossible, she got results. It was the very reason that it was whispered she’d trained under Hell’s most vicious lawyer, until Hell had spat her back out, appalled.  

 

“Sam,” she said in greeting as she passed him, but then she stopped, her smile spreading like a shark’s as she looked at Gabriel. “Been having fun, Chuckles? Not on company time I hope.” And then she was on her way, humming as her boots clip-clopped against the stairs.

 

“Bitch,” Gabriel breathed, but Sam was already powering up the stairs again, leaving Gabriel in his wake.

 

Everyone thought Gabriel was easy. They were probably right- there was a bit of truth in every rumor, and Sam had the anecdotal evidence himself. And that tarred him with the same brush. If the rest of the office found out that it was Sam who had fathered that baby... that would have been it. Butt of all jokes for ever more, not just Dean’s, but everyone’s. They’d stop conversation to look at him when he passed. It wouldn’t help his promotion prospects.

 

He couldn’t do that to his career. It was all he had. He’d support the baby, of course he would. But he couldn’t just... have everyone know. What would they think of him? At best they’d think he was an idiot that couldn’t keep it in his pants and was paying for his mistake or at worse they’d think he was some playboy that didn’t care about his partners, didn’t bother with protection.

 

Of course, the times he and Gabriel had had sex... he’d not used anything. He couldn’t pretend it was the suddenness of the situation, the rush of it all. He’d had hookups. He’d been careful. He’d carried condoms in his wallet since college...

 

“Sam!” The call was pained, gasping and that was probably why he heard it. They were on the fifth floor now. Or Sam was, Gabriel wasn’t. He was breathing hard, gripping the rail and staggering forwards. “God why haven’t you been listening to me? I... I only needed to take that stuff up to the lobby. Parts for the elevators.”

 

And now he was wasting everyone’s time, his own included because he was too much of an ass not to listen. He set the box down, collapsing down onto one of the steps and rubbing at his face, trying to push the nauseous wave away. He was an idiot. He’d ruined his life. His career. Not to mention Gabriel’s...

 

There was a hand on his knee a moment later, Gabriel easing himself down too, far more slowly than Sam’s slump to the floor. “Do you want to talk about it?” Gabriel offered, handing over one of the coffees. Sam hadn’t even noticed that Gabriel had taken them, but he was thankful. He took a mouthful, swallowing it down. It wasn’t exactly hot anymore, but that didn’t matter.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

And then silence filled the stairwell, uncomfortable and heavy, broken only by the noise of footsteps and doors down below them. It was horrible, suffocating and Sam watched as Gabriel shifted, moving to get to his feet.

 

“Look... you have work to do. Thank you for the coffee. And the... carrying.” He smiled slightly then, “I’ll forgive you for being over-enthusiastic.”

 

But the short man didn’t seem to be finished yet, didn’t try and get the box back, didn’t try and dismiss Sam again. Instead he stopped, and frowned, moving his hand to the top pocket of the boiler suit. “You forgot this. I had the clinic do me two copies. And then I realized I’d taken both home....”

 

Sam reached out. He knew what Gabriel was talking about, and suddenly he was nervous, hand shaking. He knew, somehow, exactly what it was. It was an ultrasound, tucked into that brown envelope Gabriel had tried to give him before Castiel had arrived. He knew what they looked like. Even if he’d never seen one in person before. But this was different.

 

He’d never seen his own baby before, even as a mass of grey and black and white. The coffee was set down and Sam... forgot all about time. There was his baby, ever so small and real and delicate. And beautiful. He sucked in a breath, felt it tremble though him and then Gabriel was moving, settling next to him on the step.

 

 “You can keep it, if you want to.”

 

Sam nodded, unable to speak yet. The baby, this pregnancy, it had all been... unreal to him, somehow. He knew it was possible, but it felt like it would never happen, that it wasn’t actually something that would be there one day, alive and in his arms. He swallowed again, and managed to turn his head to look at Gabriel. The janitor smiled, as if he understood. Although it must have been so much more real to him for a long time before now. Sam had had it easy so far.

 

“I’d like that. I’m going to keep it on my desk. Thank you, Gabriel.”  And screw what his coworkers thought.

 

**25 WEEKS**

**“Do you constantly want to clean or decorate? It’s natural for you to want to ‘nest’ and make a perfect home for your baby, but don’t tire yourself out”**

“Ready?”

 

Gabriel didn’t work set hours. Sam knew that. He worked a certain amount a week, and extra whenever he was needed, but it was almost six on a Friday night and the building, once more, was practically empty. It was them, and the night security guy.   There was nothing for Gabriel to do be doing, but he was taking his time about it.

 

Sam had taken to driving Gabriel home in the evening. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of Gabriel using public transport but... well, that was it, he supposed. He didn’t want something to happen. Besides, he enjoyed the company.

 

“Hold your horses, kiddo. Jellybean and me were just finishing up.” And then Gabriel emerged from the janitor’s office, arms weighed down with magazines.  “We’re spending this weekend looking at nursery things,” he explained, and didn’t protest when Sam took two-thirds of the pile from him, carrying it through the empty parking garage towards the car.

 

“I thought you’d already started that,” Sam said, setting his burden on the roof then taking the rest from Gabriel so the other man could settle himself down in the passenger seat. After the magazines were dropped onto the backseat.

 

“Well... I have. I just haven’t got very far. Forgive me for being pregnant, sometimes it means  finishing things is... tricky.”

 

“Uh huh. I’ve never seen you start something you couldn’t finish. Especially if its food related,” Sam teased, laughing at the slap that landed against his arm.

 

When they pulled up onto the drive, Gabriel didn’t immediately invite Sam in, trying to take the magazines back from him on the porch. It was a losing battle.  

 

“Are you going to show it to me?”

 

“What?” Gabriel said, the lines of his back tense as he stripped out of his jacket and toed off his shoes.

 

“The nursery. I want to see it. Come on,” Sam said with a smile. Gabriel was oddly modest at times, like he was about his kitchen and his living room and they were absolutely beautiful. So what if the nursery needed one last lick of paint? He’d more than happily offer to help. 

 

He was already halfway up the stairs, Gabriel still protesting when he realized he was wrong. He turned the bend and instead of being light and warm and welcoming like the lower floor, the upstairs of the house was a building site. Cans of paint and rolls of paper and brushes and a ladder cast shadows in the darkness. Bits of electric cable hung out of holes in the unpainted walls, doorways gapped, the doors themselves lent haphazardly around like drunks.

 

“Sam...” Gabriel breathed, voice soft, a little nervous as the tall man made his way back down the stairs, watching every step.

 

“Do you sleep up there?”

 

“Sam-“

 

“Tell me Gabriel, do you sleep up there?”

 

“I... no. Not really,” Gabriel muttered, and Sam wasn’t surprised. It was an accident waiting to happen, he could see it now- Gabriel tumbling down the stairs in the pre-dawn light, tripped over a box of nails. Electrocuted by some unfinished light-fitting.  

 

He swallowed thickly, and shook his head. “You’re staying over with me tonight. Probably the weekend, alright?” Sam said, already pulling out his phone. “Me and Dean are going to sort it out, okay? We’ll help out. You can’t... it’s not safe, Gabe. For anyone.”

 

Gabriel had sulked over night. He didn’t need charity, he didn’t want it either. But Sam refused to budge. Gabriel had to accept it in the end though- he couldn’t finish it himself, not while he was six months pregnant, and Sam wasn’t offering out of pity. He wanted to... be helpful.

 

But Gabriel still glared daggers at him. At least until about one in the morning when he wandered into the living room, wrapped in one of Sam’s sheets and prodded Sam until the figure on the couch rolled over.  Apparently Gabriel didn’t like sleeping in strange beds alone. And he was sorry. Maybe playing foreman to two attractive young men wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

So by the time Dean pulled up at Gabriel’s house at nine on Saturday morning Gabriel was all sunshine and rainbows again. Which was more than could be said for Dean. He liked a challenge. He liked building things, the Do-It-Yourself and the rest of it, it was one of those manly pursuits he thought he should excel at. And he did. At least more than Sam.

 

He tugged his brother away as Gabriel busied himself in the kitchen making coffee- _decaf only boys._

 

“Dude, you never said he was old,” Dean hissed, his face twisted in distaste. “He’s what, forty? Sammy, I thought...” He’d thought that Gabriel had been some young, twinky sort of janitor, some guy a couple of years out of high school, sort of cute despite everything. Someone good with his hands but sort of stupid when it came to social stuff like not getting knocked up by his coworkers. He hadn’t expected some guy at least a decade older than Sammy. 

 

When the front door had opened, Dean had been too surprised to say anything. He hadn’t known what to say. He’d been geared up for some hot guy with soft features, sort of adorable in a geeky way, or at least that was what Sam had described him as. How this guy could be anything like that, Dean didn’t know. But he was sure now that he’d been right before. This guy was some gold digger, and he had his claws deep into Sam now.

 

 “Shut up Dean. Gabriel is... Gabriel is a great guy, okay?” 

 

Dean’s heart sank a little further at those words. It was like Stockholm Syndrome. “Yeah, I hope he’s got a great personality because-“

 

“Because he’s fugly as hell?” That was Gabriel, leaning against the doorframe and looking at the two brothers, coffee mugs in hand. He was grinning, as if he found this hilarious, but his amber eyes were sharp and focused on Dean, not quiet glaring.  “You’re not much of a looker yourself, Deano. But you aren’t here for that, are you? You’re meant to be making your niece or nephew a bedroom, not bitching about me.”

 

He handed over the mug, Dean muttering something the others might have interpreted as thanks, but most likely wouldn’t.  There was an uncomfortable silence for several more minutes, the brothers swallowing down their coffee instead of trying to find something to say. Which left Gabriel to try and carry on the conversation. He spoke as if he hadn’t overheard anything more than a conversation about the weather, but his grin was tight.

 

“My brother is going to come over too. We’ll make lunch. But I guess you two better get some work done by then.” And with that he left.

 

A second later Sam’s fist connected hard with Dean’s arm. It wasn’t a friendly punch.

 

* * *

 

 

They had the detritus from Gabriel’s previous building attempts moved out of the soon-to-be-nursery by the time Gabriel’s brother arrived, climbing the stairs to join them, still wearing a shirt and tailored slacks despite the fact it was the weekend. Sam and Dean were stripping the old wallpaper when Gabriel introduced them, or at least introduced Castiel and Dean. They muttered _hello_ and _hi_ and that was it, Dean turning his back and tugging hard on a limp bit of paper and forcing it from the wall. It wasn’t the best reaction and Sam shrugged silently when Gabriel shot him a questioning glance. Sam didn’t care if Dean was sulking. He could sulk as much as he wanted, for the whole weekend. What he’d said about Gabriel made Sam’s blood boil, and Castiel’s arrival at least gave him someone to talk to. He certainly wasn’t going to be talking to Dean until he had something worthwhile to say.

 

Gabriel disappeared downstairs then, and Sam couldn't blame him for that. The atmosphere wasn't exactly pleasant. And then he realized that while he could talk to Castiel, he had no idea what to talk to him about. He was between a rock and a hard place- between a man who had encouraged him to accuse Gabriel of being a gold-digger and a man who knew that Sam had made that accusation. Castiel at least did not seem to hold a grudge.

 

“It was my belief that you needed specialist tools in order to remove wallpaper.”

 

Sam was about to answer, tossing another strip into a paint-splattered bucket but Dean beat him to it, snorting and turning around to face the other man.

 

“Cas, have you ever stripped paper off walls? Really crap paper? I’ve stayed in motels with paper better than this. Trust me; I know what I’m doing. Why don’t you go check on your brother?” It was derisive, leaving Sam spluttering at Dean’s rudeness, unable to believe that he could treat a stranger like that. There was something else to it, but Sam was too shocked to try and work out what exactly it was.

 

Castiel seemed the same, his blue eyes wide with surprise and tinged with sadness. Sam guessed that guys like Dean had treated Castiel badly his whole life- mocked him and dismissed his input, even when the man was right. But Castiel didn’t go, didn’t flee the room but tipped his chin upwards, pulling at another strip of peeling floral-patterned paper and ripped it free from the wall.

 

It might have been Sam’s imagination, but the temperature of the room seemed to drop a couple more degrees.

 

He was grateful when they were ready to paint and Sam had an excuse to go downstairs and ask Gabriel where the tarps were.  It gave him a chance to breathe and somehow Gabriel must have known what a struggle it was- as soon as Sam stepped into the kitchen the short man was pressing a cold beer into his hand.

 

“You’re adding alcohol into this situation?” Sam asked, after taking two long gulps and feeling better for it.

 

“Dean not his usual happy self?” Gabriel replied, tone sarcastic. Clearly Dean’s earlier comments had stung, all of Gabriel’s body language was defensive, his arms crossed over his chest. Gabriel had put a brave face on it before, in front of Dean but now Sam could see the rawness there. It made him feel horribly guilty. He’d wanted them to get along. Dean was important to him and, sure, Gabriel was going to be a major part of his life from now on, they could at least be civil to each other. But being civil? It wasn’t really one of Dean’s strong points.

 

“I don’t know what’s up with him. I’m sorry. I think he’s just in some shitty mood. I think Castiel’s getting the worst of it now- it’s like he’s some extension of you and Dean’s just...  being a jerk.” He set the beer down, his hand damp and cool from the glass and he pushed his hair back from his eyes, enjoying the sensation. It was at least a little refreshing.

 

Gabriel had moved a little closer, leaning against the work-surface again and while he still seemed a little nervous, there was a small smile on his lips. Not his usual bright, billion-kilowatt smile, but something... just a little scaled-down. “You said I was a great guy.”

“I did?” Sam asked, knowing full well that he had, but feeling better now, feeling as if he could tease Gabriel just a little. “I guess I might have. I meant to say you’re okay, sometimes. I mean, when you aren’t being a dick.”

 

Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “You just called me a dick,” He repeated, and Sam laughed, closing the gap between them and smoothing his hands over Gabriel’s sides, resting on his hips and keeping him near. For a long moment there was nothing, not a sound out of either of them, the touch completely unlike anything that they had shared before, intimate but oddly tender.

 

And then Dean ruined it. “Where are those fucking tarps?” His voice echoed down the stairs, making Gabriel wince and Sam drop his hands. Upstairs, Castiel could be heard requesting politely but firmly, that Dean not swear. The reply he received was unrepeatable.

 

“I think... we should probably break for dinner soon,” Sam said, trying not to feel even guiltier as the two parted again and Gabriel moved towards the basement door, retrieving the tarps. “I don’t know if Castiel can stomach any more of him.”  They were avoiding the elephant in the room of course, but if Gabriel was not going to bring it up, then Sam wouldn’t either.

 

He climbed the stairs trying not to think, the folded sheets of plastic tucked under one arm. As he climbed, the voices from upstairs became more audible; they were barely more than mutters as it was, but anger was gradually creeping in and the volume was creeping up.

 

“I can’t pretend to understand you, Dean Winchester. You are a terrible hypocrite and I... I think you are quite possibly the most irritating man I have ever met.”

 

“Is that right? Cas, get the stick out of your ass. What do you think this is? It’s not a damn fairytale.”

 

That made Sam frown, and stop halfway back to the room. The other two hadn’t heard him, or they would have stopped. They were talking about Gabriel of course, they had to be, what else did they have in common? Surely though, Castiel didn’t know Dean well enough to know if he was being hypocritical or not. Whatever they were discussing, Sam didn’t really want to be a part of it, and as quietly as he could, he retreated back downstairs.

 

“Hey kiddo, miss me that bad?” Gabriel asked, arms laden with food as he stepped away from the refrigerator, kicking the door shut behind him. The look on Sam’s face stopped him saying anything more, at least for the moment.

 

“Do our brothers know each other?”

 

“What?” Gabriel laughed, going back to the food for a moment. “I’m pretty sure they would have mentioned it to you if they had. Besides, I don’t think they’ve got much in common. I doubt Dean likes medieval poetry or filling in tax returns and Castiel isn’t taking Advanced Douche-baggery at night school.”

 

That made sense, at least to Sam. They didn’t have anything in common. They might have met, somehow, but there was nothing he could immediately see that would draw the two together. They wouldn’t be friends. Sam had just misinterpreted what he’d heard, that was it.  “Okay then.”

 

There was silence upstairs when he climbed the stairs again; Dean outside the nursery room, penknife in hand as he crouched down to ease the lid off a paint can. He didn’t look up as his younger brother passed, his expression unhappy, but Dean hadn’t smiled all day as far as Sam was aware. He moved past him, to spread out the tarps but frowned when he spotted Castiel, arms wrapped around himself in a hug as he looked out of the window.

 

Sam cleared his throat, softly, and began to unfold the plastic as loudly as he could, the awkwardness in the air pressing down painfully. Castiel offered to help, and between them they managed to get the sheet spread out over the carpet. Castiel’s expression oddly set even as Sam tried to engage him in conversation. He gave up after a moment, and when Dean returned to the room with the bright yellow paint, he put the radio on and that was that.

 

It wasn’t exactly an easy, companionable silence, but it meant they focused, and between the three of them the first coat of paint was done by the time Gabriel called them down for food.

 

The spread wasn’t bad, burgers, pizza slices, salad and cold beer, most of which Dean seemed to approve of. They helped themselves then collapsed down onto Gabriel’s sofa. The short man was already there, with a glass of water and a burger in front of him, and what looked like a bottle of chocolate sauce, the contents of which he’d liberally poured over his lunch.

 

“What? It’s good!” he said at their disbelieving faces, until Castiel settled down next to his brother and smothered his own burger in the same way, and took a bite, making a surprised but approving noise.

 

“Dean, Sam, you should try this-“ he said as the others sat down, Dean already halfway through his beer.

 

“I don’t think so. I think the weird food gene skipped the Winchesters completely,”  Dean muttered, although once he’d looked towards his brother, and the plate piled high with salad, he corrected himself. “Well, almost completely.”

 

“Hear that Sammy? Our baby might just be normal.” And with that, Gabriel was snatching up the television remote, flicking through channels.

 

“You’re not going to be social?” Sam asked, a little surprised. He’d thought that they’d talk but, well, considering the morning they’d had, maybe a distraction was better.

 

“Social? Sammy, I’ll be social later. Doctor Sexy’s on.”

 

Dean almost choked on his beer at that point, turning disbelieving eyes towards Gabriel. “Doctor Sexy?” he repeated, recoiling slightly when Gabriel turned to glare at him.

 

“Yes, Doctor Sexy. Deano, let’s get one thing straight. You can come to a man’s home and you can eat his food and you can drink his beer and you can call him a fugly gold-digger, but you can’t insult a man’s show, okay? Now, shut up and lemme watch.”

 

The look on Dean’s face had Sam laughing, unable to help himself. “Gabe,” he managed, claiming himself while his brother was still recovering. “Doctor Sexy is Dean’s favorite show.”

 

“Really? Well maybe he’s not all that bad after all,” Gabriel said, settling back and making himself comfortable, the silence that fell between them a little more at-ease.

 

After the show (it was a repeat, but Gabriel and Dean still watched engrossed in it as if it was the first new episode after a six-month hiatus) it was Sam and Castiel that ended up taking the plates and bottles to the kitchen, while their siblings were left in animated discussion on plot and characterization. Castiel had smiled indulgently throughout the episode, but it was clear it wasn’t exactly his taste. Sam knew that feeling- he’d been forced to watch far too many episodes with Dean over the years.

 

He’d not known what exactly to say to Castiel before, what common ground they had, apart from Gabriel, but after the shared ordeal of Doctor Sexy, Sam was beginning to feel a little more confident. They chitchatted while washing the dishes, grinning as the conversation from the living room got louder- the discussion about best plot arc becoming more impassioned.  Castiel returned the smile with a vaguely embarrassed look, staking the plates away. By the time they all regrouped at the foot of the stairs Dean and Gabriel seemed far happier in each other’s presence. They weren’t ever going to be the best of friends, Sam knew that, but at least Dean wasn’t trying to kill Gabriel with his glare.

 

“So Castiel...” Sam began, as suavely as he could, trying to make everything seem casual as they climbed the stairs, and Gabriel showed them where he’d tucked away all the flat-packed Swedish furniture he’d bought. “You and Dean have never met before?”

 

Castiel looked up from the bag of curtains and blankets he’d been handed, giving Sam a wide-eyed look. It was an odd expression, one that Sam took for surprise. Castiel didn’t answer though, or rather, he didn’t get the chance.

 

Dean, manhandling a flat-pack cot out of the way, interrupted.  “Nope.  Never met him before today.”

 

“Dean, that isn’t true,” Castiel said, and Dean turned around so fast he almost knocked Gabriel off his feet with the end of the box. “I believe you have attempted to fix my car once. You are a mechanic, are you not?”

 

Sam was too busy steadying Gabriel at that point to see the look on Dean’s face, even if his brother’s behavior was beginning to concern him.

 

“I...  yeah, I guess. Maybe. I don’t know. Worked on a lot of cars....” And then he was gone, back down the stairs to start putting bits of furniture together.

 

The rest of the day was fairly busy, with Castiel and Sam finishing off a second coat of paint and Dean wrestling with what seemed to be half the kid’s section of IKEA, sat in front of the TV with Gabriel’s special-edition Doctor Sexy box-set. Gabriel beavered back and forth between all of them, bringing coffee or beer or just stood and watched, chatting away and distracting everyone.  He seemed genuinely delighted now, pleased that everyone was getting along and some of the unease of the morning forgotten.  Some, but not all of course. Dean was still keeping his distance from Castiel, but Sam supposed this must have been weird- two strangers forced to work together because of their brother’s foolishness.

 

But even that was slowly waning. Sam didn’t say anything, but that evening when they were ferrying furniture back into the room (“Whose stupid idea what it to build this stuff downstairs? We should have done it _in_ the room.” “...It was your idea, Dean”) he hung back when Dean and Castiel crossed paths, Dean coming back down to fetch something else and Castiel carrying a miniature set of draws.

 

“Come on Cas, let me help you with that,” Dean said, a softness in his voice that Sam hadn’t actually heard before, none of Dean’s earlier hostility or his indifferent attitude evident now. 

 

Castiel let him take the draws without a word, but as Dean turned to go back up the stairs, Castiel’s hand moved, touching him on the elbow. “Dean, I think we should-“

 

“Not yet. Later.”

 

And that was it. They were both heading up the stairs and if they said anything else, it was too quiet for Sam to hear.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean headed home at about six that evening, promising to be back in the morning to help finish off. There wasn’t much to do, not really, but he still had three episodes of season four to watch and he’d declined Gabriel’s offer to take it with him. Castiel said he wouldn’t stay long with, just long enough to help tidy away the boxes and tools they’d used.

 

“I was wondering if we might get an early start tomorrow?” Sam said, looking to Gabriel as Castiel left the room again, leaving them alone. “So I was thinking... maybe I could stay over? On the couch? That way we can at least get everything ready no matter what time Dean gets back here...”

 

He’d thought it was a good suggestion, he’d thought he’d phrased it right, so it didn’t sound like he was wanting to stay over and try and get into bed with Gabriel again, because that wasn’t his intention. He was just trying to be practical. But the look on Gabriel’s face was horrified.

 

“Gabe? I’m sorry. I didn’t think. It was just a silly idea.”

 

“It was a very good idea,” Castiel called, only in the hallway, slipping back into his tan-colored coat. “But Gabriel sleeps on the couch. There would not be room for both of you.”

 

“Cas!” Gabriel went from sheet-white to red then, turning and marching out towards his brother, “Ican’tbelieveyousaidthatCasIjustcan’t!”

 

Castiel was already opening the door and stepping out though, leaving Gabriel stood awkwardly in the hallway, and Sam in the living room. And then he remembered. He’d asked on Friday. He’d asked Gabriel if he slept upstairs. Gabriel had told him no. But he’d been so swept up by the idea of fixing up the nursery that he’d forgotten there was more than the one room up there.

 

It was probably a good thing that he wasn’t exhausted yet.

 

“Come on. We might as well get started while we’ve got some daylight left,” Sam said, moving forward as soon as he dared and taking Gabriel’s hand, leading him back upstairs. He’d not seen Gabriel’s room, he didn’t know what he expected. Another disaster area, considering the corridor and the nursery before they’d started this morning, but... it wasn’t that bad. It had been painted, and there was a nightstand and a mattress leant against the wall, but the rest of the furniture, including the bed, was still in boxes. Dean was the expert when it came to stuff like this but... well. He wasn’t here. And part of him didn’t think that Gabriel would want him in here, in his bedroom, no matter if they’d warmed to each other over Doctor Sexy.

 

It wasn’t just that, Sam realized, as Gabe sat down on the nightstand and watched as Sam began to put things together, helping where he could and laughing when Sam put the door handle on the wrong side of the closet door. Maybe he just didn’t want Dean involved- he just wanted some time to just be alone with Gabriel, enjoy his company and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to do something for Gabriel all by himself, without Dean and without Castiel, something that was just from _him_.

 

They ordered Chinese food halfway through the night, and as Sam attempted to hold two sides of the bed together, as well as screw the bits into place, Gabriel tried to feed him noodles from his carton, prodding Sam’s cheek with the chopsticks. Gabriel was hardly able to breathe around his laughter and while Sam tried to keep a straight face, but it was almost impossible with sweet and sour sauce running down his jaw and matting in his stubble.

 

The meal, the laughter and flirting slowed him down, not that he cared. They were enjoying themselves far too much. By the time they’d finished everything it was almost two in the morning; Sam was too tired to do more than pull Gabriel down onto the bed, minus sheets and pillows, and try to catch his breath. As the ache began to fade from his muscles, and his eyes began to close, he felt a gentle press of a hand on his.

 

“Samsquash?”

 

 _What, Gabe?_ he tried to say, but it came out more as a “Hmmmph?”

 

“Shush, sleepy head,” Gabriel muttered, shifting a little closer and pressing Sam’s fingers to the swell over his stomach. Sam hadn’t really touched the bump before- apart from during sex- he’d never been invited to, he’d never wanted to take the liberty of assuming he could. It was an odd sensation and one he didn’t get much chance to get used to, not before there was a kick, movement under his fingers that made him jump.  “Jello says thank you for the Chinese, but she says she’s tired now.”

 

“She?” Sam asked, eyes meeting Gabriel’s.

 

The man only shrugged.“It’s just a feeling. I don’t _know_.”

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I completely agree. Bedtime for Jellybean and her dad.”

 

“Dads, Sammy.”

 

**27 WEEKS**

**“Your little one can hear a lot from the outside now and you might notice extra kicks in response to sudden or loud noises.”**

 

Gabriel was mainlining decaf now like there was no tomorrow, as if he thought that the more he consumed the more likely it was that a caffeine kick would hit him and he wouldn’t ache or feel tired anymore. Sam was finding he actually preferred not being buzzed all the time- he was sleeping better, much better, even if sometimes when he woke up he was surprised by how cold and unfriendly his monochrome bedroom seemed. He found himself showering quickly, throwing on his clothes and heading over to Gabriel’s house as soon as he could, breakfasting there. He told himself it was so he could try and make sure Gabriel wasn’t eating Peanut Butter or a fully caffeinated Starbucks or some sort of weird runny cheese but there was more to it than that. He just didn’t want to think about it too hard.

 

He had to bring his own coffee to the office now. There was always some in the kitchenette, but it wasn’t decaf, and just because Gabriel wasn’t there to watch Sam keep his promise ( _I won’t eat what you can’t eat, okay? Okay. Put that brie down, Gabriel._ ) Sam wasn’t about to break it. And after dealing with some of the most pretentious interns that morning, by the time break rolled around, he deserved a cup of something.

 

There were voices already audible from the little room; not surprising considering the time, and frankly there were too many people who had nothing better to do than chat away in there for most of the day. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, and Sam wouldn’t have thought any more of it as he busied himself with finding his cup in the cupboard. That was until he overheard it. A phrase that not only caught his attention, but jumped up and down on his gut with heavy boots.

 

“Have you seen him waddling all over the place? He looks ridiculous. If he wasn’t going to get rid of it then he should at least have handed in his notice.”

 

“I suppose you could always say that he can’t fulfill his contract in his condition and fire him, Zachariah.”

 

“And risk a lawsuit? We all know how that ends.”

 

Sam didn’t realize he was staring until Zachariah Adler turned to look at him, unimpressed. Meg was stood behind him, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow, challenging Sam to say something. Clearly, she didn’t think he would. Zachariah was the head of their department, not a man easily amused and so very easily pissed off.

 

“What is it, Samuel?” The man asked.

 

Sam could almost feel the reply on his tongue, burning to get out. _Nothing, sir_ he’d say, and they’d go back to bad-mouthing Gabriel, laughing at him where he had no chance to defend himself. It made Sam feel sick. Gabriel didn’t need this. He didn’t need to be treated like that.

 

“It’s my baby.”

 

The silence that followed was almost deafening, even Meg looked surprised.

 

“It’s my baby, Mr Adler and I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk about Gabriel Novak that way.”

 

His heart was thumping hard in his chest, almost too hard, and he wanted to leave, to turn his back on them and disappear back to his office. But he didn’t, he stood his ground, waiting for them to say something. No one did and it was Zachariah that turned to leave first, stomping out of the room and snapping at someone just beyond the door.

 

Meg followed, but not before she grinned, a lopsided perceptive grin. “It’s about time you grew a pair.”

 

**28 WEEKS**

**“You might  find yourself wanting to eat more – but make sure you eat well– good nutrition is still very important.”**

 

Sam was stuck in the office again, the warmth of the sun hot through the windows even with the blinds shut the room was stifling. It was maddening, especially when he’d spent the morning on the phone with Crowley, and their conversation had been peppered with complaints about the cold,  wet, and the rain. Considering Sam had resorted to taking off his tie half way through their conference, he was certain the Englishman was doing it only to make him jealous.

 

It got worse as it got later- but then again, early afternoon was meant to be the hottest part of the day.  It left him with only one choice, really. He pulled out his phone, tapping away.

 

_Gabe are there any spare desk fans?_

 

The reply came only a moment later. _you aren’t the first person that’s asked me that today. maybe I can find 1. but what’s in it for me?_

 

_I’ll take you to dinner tonight._

 

_how could i resist? i’ll find you a fan. gotta come get it though, ankles hurt._

 

Sam had intended to go down to collect the fan, and go straight back up to his office. But as he got down to Gabriel’s little den, the door was open, and a strange welcoming breeze drew him in. Gabriel was there, on the old couch, with his legs stretched out, the little television set on, surrounded by fans. At least ten, at very quick count.

 

“I think you can certainly spare me one,” Sam said, nonplussed.

 

He’d thought Gabriel had heard him arrive, but the way the man jumped made Sam feel more than a little guilty. Gabriel didn’t blame him though, just gestured Sam over and patted a box down by the side of the couch.

 

“You can have this one. Those ones I need. Jellybean is part iceberg and doesn’t like the heat.”

 

“How is our baby part iceberg?” Sam said, settling down on the end seat, Gabriel shifting his feet for a moment before laying them across Sam’s legs, and his carefully pressed slacks. It was almost too casual for Sam, if any of the senior managers came down there, well, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t come out unscathed.

 

Gabriel didn’t seem to care. He reached down again, picking up an empty carton of ice-cream. “Since about 11 this morning, Jello’s been infusing in a mix of Cookie Dough and Phish Food. She’s now about 45% ice.”

 

“Infusing, Gabe? You make her sound like a steak.” 

 

He got a shrug in reply then Gabriel moved, getting up and moving towards the door, shutting it and returning via the little kitchenette. He settled down again, this time next to Sam, and passed him a spoon. In his hand there was another carton of ice-cream.

 

“All this can’t be good for you,” Sam murmured, even as he helped himself to a mouthful, letting Gabriel settle against him.

 

“Eating for two,” Gabriel reminded him although there was no way Sam could have forgotten, and he settled back to watch whatever repeats were being aired.

 

He had to detach himself eventually- having spent most of his lunch hour down in the cool basement. He took the fan with him, tucked under his arm as he rode the lift back up to the fifth floor, trying to ignore the jealous glances his way.  When he reached his desk, feeling a little sick now- it wasn’t often he let himself eat ice-cream, and finishing half of it by himself was apparently a little more than he could stomach. He settled down, fumbling with the cables and plugs in an attempt to get the fan working.

 

“Now how did you get that I wonder?”

 

It was Sam that jumped then, looking up at the figure in the doorway- her tall heels and tailored trousers, the amethyst shirt under a black blazer. Meg was looking at him knowingly, as if she was well aware he’d been downstairs eating Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream.

 

He didn’t get a chance to reply before she was stepping into the room, toe pressing on the plug and forcing it into the socket then pressed the button on the base of the fan itself with one long, manicured finger. Sam was suddenly blasted with moving air, his hair forced back and out of place.

“Because You’re Worth It, right?”she said, perching on the edge of his desk. “Zachariah has been looking for you. They need someone up in the Seattle office to act as a go-between and you’ve been volunteered.  You’ll need to be there for next Monday, and you’ll probably be there at least 5 weeks.”

 

Sam didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t be away over a month, not now. He swallowed, and shook his head. “I can’t, Meg. You know about the baby, don’t you? I couldn’t be away for so long...”

 

The look she gave him then wasn’t exactly sympathetic. “You’ve been headhunted, Sam. This could be very good for your career. A promotion and a pay increase wouldn’t go amiss, would it?” She said, and then grinned. It wasn’t a very nice grin, all teeth. “I noticed you haven’t applied for any paternity leave yet either. All those forms... good thing I’m here, isn’t it? If you go, I’ll get it all rushed through for you. Otherwise... well, I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to get the time off. Chunky down there will need you much more once the baby’s born than now, right?”

 

He didn’t have any choice when she put it like that, only felt a horrible weight settle in his stomach that was nothing to do with too much frozen dessert and all about the fact he _hadn’t_ put in for paternity leave. Gabriel had filled in all the paperwork months ago, he had a calendar up in his kitchen counting off the days until his time off started. They’d talked about Sam coming over to help and to see his kid so... why had he done nothing?

 

He swallowed, and then looked up. Meg had been talking to him, but he hadn’t been listening.

 

She rolled her eyes, and sighed.  “I said, _do we have a deal_?”

 

“I... yeah. Okay,” he muttered, still feeling a little lost, caught up in something he couldn’t get out of. He didn’t even realize that she was leaning in, pressing her lips to his cheek before heading out the room.

 

**29 WEEKS**

**“If you’re a pregnant single parent, don’t let yourself feel lonely. Keep in contact with family and friends and see them as often as you can, you might not feel like it once the baby is born.”**

As soon as the phone rang Sam snatched it up. He’d been pouring over paperwork for hours, or so it seemed, spreading it out over the tiny hotel desk, over the bed. There was so much of it, and despite spending ten hours in the office each day so far that week, he felt he wasn’t getting anywhere. The only thing that seemed to keep him going were phone calls from home. Or in Dean’s case, badly spelt texts.

 

“Got a few minutes, Sammycakes?”

 

“God yes,” Sam muttered, a smile pulling over his face as he pushed the papers into one pile, setting his elbow down on the laminated wood. “Can I come home now, Gabe?”

 

“Not yet papa-bear. But soon. And me and Jello will be waiting. It’s only a few weeks. Nothing fun is going to happen.”

 

Sam appreciated the attempt to calm his nerves. Gabriel might have rejected it outright, but Sam had been doing his homework. Something could happen. Anything could go wrong at this stage, and if it did it’d take him at least 5 hours to fly back, and that was hoping he could get a flight straight from Seattle to home. If he couldn’t....

 

But nothing was going to go wrong. He’d gone to see Gabriel before he’d had to go away, he’d planned it out. Gabriel had Dean’s number, Bobby’s number, and Castiel to rely on. If something happened there was people close-by to take care of him. There was a bag packed and ready by Gabriel’s front door.

 

Gabriel was still talking, both at Sam and the bump, murmuring at both of them and when Sam’s focus returned he could laugh at some of Gabriel’s stranger musings, relaxing down into the unfamiliar mattress and foreign pillows. It was comforting, a voice from home that helped ease the tension from his frame, and before he knew it, he was slipping into sleep.

 

**32 WEEKS**

**“You might think that you are on an emotional rollercoaster at the moment, but don’t worry. Talk about your feelings and you’ll feel better.”**

Normally Gabriel would have called by now. It was fairly late in the afternoon, and they’d got into a pattern. Gabriel would call him after Sam had eaten, they’d talk for an hour or so, sometimes three or more if Gabriel had something on his mind, then they’d head off to bed. It made Sam feel better about being so long away from home, much more so then Dean’s text messages and Meg’s occasional email updates on office gossip.

 

He was grateful for all of it of course but when he spoke to Gabriel he felt he was back there, on the sofa with Gabriel close by, in the warmth of his house.

 

He didn’t panic straight away when Gabriel didn’t call when he was expecting- sometimes he forgot all about the time difference, that Gabriel was two hours ahead of him, sometimes he forgot that Gabriel that he was inclined to nap when he was bored of waiting for Sam to get back to the hotel.  None of that was worrying. Normally Gabriel would call soon enough, apologetic and fine and they’d go on as if nothing had happened.

 

But he was beginning to panic now. Gabriel normally didn’t nap this long, and for all the guarantees that there was nothing wrong, Sam’s mind was starting to come up with terrible scenarios. Something _had_ gone wrong, very wrong; Gabriel had been rushed to hospital. Worse- he was at home in pain and unable to call anyone, all alone on the floor and frightened. And now Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath burning his lungs. He had to calm himself down to scroll through his phone, to call Gabriel.

 

The phone rang, and rang, and rang.

 

He hung up, dialed Gabriel’s cell. It went straight to voicemail.

 

If Sam wasn’t in a panic before, he was now. He tossed the phone away, onto the bed and paced, trying to push back the nausea twisting in his gut then dashed for his phone again, finding Castiel’s number in his contact list.

 

“Hello?” the man answered, sounding slightly confused as to why he was being called at this hour of the evening. Gabriel had given Sam Castiel’s number but Castiel didn’t have his. Not that Sam realized it at that moment, felt a wave of anger that Castiel didn’t know who was calling, or how important it was.

 

“Cas, it’s me, Sam. I’ve been trying to get through to Gabriel but he’s not picking up is he okay? Can you drive over and check on him?”

 

The words came out as a tumble, hardly a breath or pause between them and if Castiel hesitated before answering, perhaps it was because he was attempting to understand what had been said.

 

“Gabriel is very well. His ex-wife has come to visit him and I believe they are out for-“

 

Castiel didn’t get to finish.

 

“His ex-wife?” Sam spluttered. Gabriel wasn’t married. Hadn’t been married. “He’s never said anything to me.”

 

The pause on the other end of the line said nothing, but Sam didn’t need for Castiel to say anything at all. His mind was spinning. He’d been worried to death but now he had to face that he didn’t know Gabriel at all. He didn’t know that he’d been married, he didn’t know if he had other children, he didn’t know even exactly how old Gabriel was, just that he was older than Sam, older than Dean.

 

“They used to be very close, but I do not know if they have spoken much... recently,” Castiel was saying, and it was clear from his tone that he meant _since Gabriel became pregnant_. “They were only married a short while, when Gabriel was in between colleges.”

 

Sam shifted uneasily. He know he should be talking to Gabriel about this, he should ask Gabriel about Gabriel, but he couldn’t. He had questions and he didn’t know how long he would have to wait to speak to Gabriel. Could you even have this conversation when on separate sides of the country? Would Gabriel think he was angry? He wasn’t angry, not angry at all. He was just... surprised. Hurt maybe. He thought he knew everything that was important about Gabriel;what music he liked and what restaurants he liked to order from and the stupid things that made him laugh till he cried.  As it turned out, he didn’t know much about him at all.

 

He reached out, took hold of the mostly-cold coffee and swallowed down a mouthful, surprised at how dry his throat had become in those few seconds. “Castiel... is there any reason- is there any reason why he wouldn’t have told me about this? Did they have... does Gabriel have any other children?”

 

On the other end of the line, Castiel sighed. It didn’t seem like he thought it was his place to answer the questions either, but he did. “They have no children, Sam. Although I do not believe Gabriel was joking when he said he filed for custody of the Tigers....”

 

“Wait. What? Tigers?”

 

“Oh, did I not say? Kali works in Las Vegas. She has her own show, I believe. The Tigers are part of her act. It was how they met. But I think if you want to ask anything more, you should speak to Gabriel. It is not my place to discuss these things with you, Sam.” Castiel paused then, and there was a noise beyond, another voice although Sam didn’t really hear it or the words that were spoken. “I must go. I would call Gabriel later, or tomorrow, and speak to him. Goodnight, Sam.”

 

And then Castiel hung up, leaving Sam feeling very much alone, and very very stupid.

 

He rang Gabriel the next morning; ducking into an empty cubical once he’d arrived in the still unfamiliar Seattle office. The phone rang, once, twice, three times before it was picked up, and Gabriel groggily managed a greeting.

 

“Castiel told me you were out last night,” Sam began, trying to keep any of the hurt out of his voice, any hints of _I couldn’t reach you and you didn’t even text me at all and you never told me you’d been married_. Maybe he succeeded, maybe he didn’t, maybe Gabriel was just too drowsy to tell. “With your ex-wife?” he prompted, and was rewarded by a choking noise.

 

“Sammy-“ Gabriel began, and Sam’s heart sank at the guilty note in Gabriel’s voice. “I... I didn’t think it was worth telling you about. It was years and years and years ago, and... Kali occasionally visits, but it’s nothing but a booty call and-“

 

“A booty call? Was that was it was this time?”

 

“Oh god. No! Not at all. We haven’t spoken in a year, more than a year, Sam! She just turned up and there was Jellybean and she... we just talked. We went out for dinner and talked.” He was trying to make peace, Sam could tell. He’d heard the calming tone from Dean often enough. Dean usually made him bitter and angry, hopeless and frustrated. But now, now he only felt empty.

 

He’d worried. He’d been genuinely worried about Gabriel, and Gabriel had been... well, having fun. That was okay. He just wished he’d known what was going on.

 

“It’s okay, Gabriel. I mean... I’m not your keeper, we’re not... we’re not....” He couldn't find the word. They weren’t dating. There wasn’t anything serious there. But there was the baby. Jellybean. You couldn’t get more serious than a baby, all that responsibility, all that it entailed. Sam knew that, no matter what he was saying. There was something between them, something that bound them together and he couldn’t pretend now that he wasn’t hurt by the secrecy, by the fact that while he was gone, Gabriel had found comfort somewhere else.

 

His silence has gone on too long apparently because Gabriel was trying to fill it, trying to get rid of the suddenly horrible tension that hung in the air like a bitter smell. “No, we aren’t... anything like that. But me and Kali aren’t either, kiddo. I would have mentioned it, but I... I’ve been a bit distracted.”

 

And he sounded so sincere then that Sam couldn’t help but smile slightly. He knew exactly what was causing the distraction. “Jellybean is pretty distracting. I’m sorry I’m not there to help out.”

 

“No, don’t be. It’s not... it’s not that. I...” Gabriel said, “It’s not the help that I miss. Although you know, getting a chair to stand on when I want something out of a cupboard is getting real old real fast....” 

 

A sudden joyful warmth pooled in Sam’s stomach, like a happy sort of apprehension, and he found himself grinning even as people passed and shook their heads at him. “So... what was it that you really missed?”

 

There was a slight delay, and Sam could only imagine Gabriel knotting his fingers into the coiled cable of that old-fashioned phone with the weird old dial that the janitor had. “You’re pushy this morning. You’re in Seattle, home of coffee. You must be able to find one somewhere. Or I can waddle down to Starbucks and Fed-Ex it to you.”

 

“Gabriel....”

 

“Okay. Okay. You know the answer anyway, Sasquash.”

 

“Maybe I don’t. Maybe I want to hear you say it.”

 

“Alright. I miss you. Happy?”

 

“I miss you too.”

 

**34 WEEKS**

**“If you’re feeling overwhelmingly tired, it’s only natural. By this stage there shouldn’t be any more surprises.”**

Sam regretted not having Gabriel come to meet him at the airport. But it was three in the morning by the time he’d got his luggage and it just wasn’t fair to ask him to get a taxi all the way out here, or to get Castiel to drive him. Presents could wait of course, at least until Sam had collapsed in his own bed for a couple of hours and caught up on some much-needed, restful sleep.

 

He pretty much fell into a taxi, glad for the help with his bags and the comfortable silence from the driver as they made their way through the city, towards Sam’s apartment. He was already half asleep when the taxi came to a stop at his building, and the man got out to help shift the bags onto the pavement.

 

“It’s alright dude, I’ll do it.”

 

Sam blinked. He’d not said that, he didn’t call anyone dude, and he clambered quickly out of the taxi and shoved some bills into the driver’s hand. “Dean? Dean, what are you doing here, it’s... it’s like four a.m.”  He should have called Dean more. Or texted him anyway. Dean wasn’t so good at phone-calls when there was emotion involved. But his brother had missed him, why else would he be here, in the middle of the night, waiting for Sam?

 

The hug proved it, Dean’s grip tight, and it lasted for longer than the usual two heartbeats.

 

“I can’t believe you missed me this much,” Sam said, awake again now and beaming, picking up one of the hold-alls and heading inside as Dean followed.

 

“Don’t get all chick-flick on me,” Dean muttered, glancing away as Sam stepped into the lift and held it open as Dean got in. Dean could have laughed off the hug, could have just punched him on the shoulder and called him something stupid but this was another side to Dean that Sam rarely saw. And it made him worry.

 

“You’re not just here because you missed me, are you?”

 

His brother shook his head. He was older, and Sam knew in many respects smarter; he just wasn’t bookish and he didn’t feel the need to prove himself all the time. Dean could go it alone and had, when Sam was at college. He rode rough-shod over the things that bothered him, or drunk them away if he couldn’t ignore them.  Coming to Sam was new.

 

“Come on, Dean. If it’s that important that your here, you should just tell me and get it over with. Did Bobby fire you?” Not that he could imagine it. Bobby was a second father to both of them, he wouldn’t just kick Dean out, and Dean had done some pretty stupid things on the clock before. “What is it? Because if it can wait till morning, I’d really-“

 

“Sammy, just stop,” Dean said, sucking in a deep breath of air and trying to work out how exactly he was going to say what he needed to get off his chest. In the end, it didn’t seem that he knew, so he just spat it out. “I sort of.... me and Cas...  look, I... I sort of got Castiel pregnant.”

 

Sam laughed. He laughed because that was the worst joke he’d ever heard, because his brother had been so good at pranks once-upon-a-time, but that was new low. He had almost caught his breath enough to reply, to call Dean out but Dean wasn’t smiling, wasn’t even acting as if all of this was some stupid joke. 

 

Sam’s laughter stopped as abruptly as it started, ending in a little strangled noise. “How? When the hell did you have time? You had all of ten minutes alone with him during that whole weekend!”

 

“Well, that’s the thing...” Dean murmured, “I... we sort of... look. He brought his car to Bobby’s months ago and one thing led to another and tonight he tells me that-”

 

Sam took a breath, a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, holding up his hand to stop Dean before he went any further. He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, not for hours yet. This was typical, it really was. First one-night stand in years, he knocks someone up.  First night in his own home after weeks and his brother has a crisis and Sam had to deal with it before he could go curl up in his own bed. That was the card Fate dealt him.

 

“I need coffee,” he said, as the lift reached his floor and the doors slid open. “I’m going to have a coffee, you’re going to have one too, and you are going to tell me what happened. Get in.” He didn’t get as far as the kitchen though, dropping his bags to the floor and pointing Dean towards the couch. “Talk to me, Dean. What’s going on? What happened?”

 

Dean fidgeted, fingers too idle. Normally he would have had this conversation with a beer in his hand, or a whiskey bottle, but Sam wasn’t in the mood to indulge Dean’s bad habits, not right now. “He just kept bringing in this beat-up old Mustang. I don’t know how it happened, Sam. It was the tie and the coat and his hair, all messed up like he’d rolled out of bed, and he’d come right up to me like he’d never heard of personal space.  Then I think I kissed him and then we were-”

 

Dean could lay it on thick when he wanted; tell these stories like a playboy novel. He’d always liked to go on about his dates and how far he’d got in the backseat. Sam didn’t like it when they were growing up and he didn’t like it now, and he didn’t really want to hear about what Dean had done to Gabriel’s brother, a guy that didn’t seem the sort to sleep around or just jump into bed with good-looking mechanics. He’d just made that mistake with Dean. “I don’t think I want to hear the details, Dean.  You fucked him and then you blew him off at Gabriel’s place? No wonder he seemed so pissed off when you said you didn’t remember him.”

 

“It’s wasn’t the one time, Sam. I told you the car was beat-up, didn’t I? He was back at least once every week or two. And we got talking and he was... pretty naive, you know? Never had a diner burger before, can you believe that? Or seen Die Hard, so we hung out a bit. A few times. We went to his place a bit. But now he thinks it’s all serious and he expects me to do things and I just don’t know how this could have even-”

 

Sam blinked. He blinked because he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, that his brother was there, listening to what was coming out of his own mouth but not putting the two and two together. “Dean. _Dean_.”

 

That stopped the flow of consciousness, made Dean look up in suddenly, “What?”

 

“You make it sound like you were dating him,” Sam said, as carefully as he could. “I mean, movies? Going for food? Staying over at his house?” There was a look of horror on Dean’s face that screamed at Sam to stop, that this was too much, that Dean couldn’t deal with all of this. But he needed to hear it if he couldn’t work it out for himself. “Dean, what if Castiel thought you two were dating? If you’d done that stuff with a girl, everyone would assume you were dating, right?”

 

Dean didn’t appreciate that. He never liked it when someone pointed out the obvious. He got up off the chair, made his way into Sam’s kitchen and opened up the fridge. “You don’t have any beer,” he said, before slamming the door shut again, making his way back to the couches and throwing himself down.

 

“Why wouldn’t you say you knew him? That you two were... whatever you thought you were doing with him, Dean? Did you think I’d judge you? I’m not Dad.” It had to be said. He didn’t get it. Dean had always known about him, about his freshman-year girlfriend at college and how they’d out grown each other and then the boyfriend he’d had in the last half of sophomore term. Sam wasn’t going to start judging him.

 

“Look I.... I’m not gay, Sam,” Dean said, with a seriousness that Sam couldn’t argue with. “I really... I’m just not into that, okay? It’s just... Cas.  Cas is the only guy I’m interested in.”

 

There was a profound silence. _Interested in_. Not just fucking, not anything as casual as that. Dean seemed to realize exactly what he’d said though, looking at his hands rather than back at his brother.

 

“When did he tell you Dean?”

“Earlier today. He has a scan next week. He said...” Dean shifted, glancing up at his brother and there was a look of pure embarrassment, “That I should make an honest man of him.”

 

Oh god. No wonder Dean had completely freaked out; there probably wasn’t anything that would make him feel more uncomfortable and panicky, apart from the thought of someone else driving his car. Dean was not one for commitment; he’d never been very good at it. It wasn’t that he didn’t try, it was clear that he wanted to do his best but... it just never worked out. The last had been Lisa, and he’d tried it for a whole year. She’d said she was happy but Dean knew he wasn’t what she’d needed, or what she’d wanted. Sam knew how it went. Dean’s relationships never lasted.

 

But as serious as it all was, Sam felt a grin spreading ear-to-ear. “So, why don’t you? Marry him?” he asked, ducking the cushion Dean threw at his head.

 

“Why aren’t you marrying Gabriel?” Dean countered, and the question was so unexpected that for a moment, Sam didn’t know what to do- he didn’t even notice the second cushion till it hit him square in the face.

 

He didn’t have to answer, he knew he didn’t.  But he felt he had to, if only because Dean was looking at him, challenging him to admit that Dean wasn’t the only Winchester boy who was frightened of the idea of so much commitment. “I... we...” Sam began, before he found his tongue again, “Because we aren’t dating, Dean. We’re just... two people, having a baby. That’s all it is.”

 

Dean’s expression changed, moving from amusement to disbelief. “Yeah, well... I can’t blame you, I wouldn’t want to be tied to that heap of crazy.”

 

“ _Shut up!_ Gabriel is not crazy. Maybe he _is_ crazy, but he’s great all the same.”

 

“And yeah right, you’re just two people having a baby.” Dean shook his head, still smiling as they slipped into silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, more thoughtful than anything, but Sam couldn’t stay quiet for long, not when there were so many thoughts echoing about in his head.

 

“Did you know Castiel was Gabriel’s brother?”

 

Dean made a face, mouth twisting. “What? No! You think I went out looking for your baby-mama's brother just so I could have one of my own? Dammit Sam, do you want to get on Jerry Springer?”

 

**35 WEEKS**

**“You could have a sudden burst of energy over the last few weeks – but don’t overdo it. Exhaustion and stress can cause complications.”**

“I don’t know why I have to go.” Gabriel was sulking, the seat-belt stretched beneath his bump and it was clear he was uncomfortable. Jellybean was apparently pretty settled where she was now, but Gabriel was beginning to hate going anywhere. He was tired and irritable, although not when they passed a baby superstore. Sam had to promise to stop there on the way back before Gabriel would stop reciting _I guess I’ll go eat worms_.

 

“Castiel wants you to go with him. For moral support. You’re his older brother and he appreciates you. After all, you’ve done all this too.”

 

“And you’re just my sexy chauffeur, right?” Gabriel teased, sighing and settling back, relaxing slightly. He’d been tense since Castiel had called him, told him he was pregnant and asked him to come to the scan. Gabriel had been cheerful enough, positive and congratulatory, but Sam had seen his expression once he’d set the receiver down.  He’d never seen the man look like that before, angry, quiet and withdrawn.

 

Sam was just hoping that seeing Castiel and sharing their excitement would convince Gabriel there was nothing to worry about, that there was nothing wrong. That Dean and Castiel had worked everything out as adults and now Gabriel could just be happy for them, like Castiel and Dean were happy for him.

 

But it was not to be.

 

As soon as Sam pulled into the parking lot, he could see the Impala there- she was impossible to miss, sleek black body work and polished chrome. And that meant Dean was there.  The sudden chill coming from the passenger side implied that Sam wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

 

Even wrapping a comforting arm around Gabriel and trying to keep him close as they walked through the hospital reception didn’t calm the smaller man down. He was tense from his shoulders to his toes, apparently unable to even reply to Sam’s attempts at conversation as he stomped forwards, loudly complaining when some inconsiderate soul didn’t bother to hold a door open. Sam should have known that it wasn’t going to be a good day, but for some reason he still held onto the belief that Gabriel could master his emotions and stay polite.

 

Gabriel could do that, if he wanted. Sam had seen him at work when people walked over the patch of floor he’d just mopped, leaving muddy trails over the marble. He saw him grit his teeth and resist the urge to throw the mop at their head or kick over the bucket and curse them all. There was a lot of rage in that small body, but most of the time Gabriel was calm and upbeat. These last few weeks had certainly changed all of that.

 

“We’re here for Cas, Gabriel. Remember that. Just ignore Dean, alright?” Sam murmured as they turned a corner, through another set of double-doors and into the familiar waiting room where Sam had first meet Castiel Novak all those weeks ago. It seemed so strange now to be back again. With Castiel dressed much the same, shirt, slacks and tie. This time though, there was Dean stood next to him, looking a little self-conscious with his hand low on Castiel’s back. He did try a smile though, at Gabriel and Sam, clearly he’d not seen the storm-cloud over the janitor’s head.

 

“You!” Gabriel said, pushing himself away from Sam’s gentle hold and jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest, face twisted into a snarl. “You have a lot of explaining to do, mister. You don’t just screw around with people’s little brothers and then expect that everyone will be a-okay with it.”

 

Dean’s sort-of smile fell, his arm unwinding from around Castiel, his jaw setting in an unhappy line. “You’re one to talk about screwing around with younger brothers.”

 

“Dean!” Sam began, but not loud enough to stop Gabriel’s tirade.

 

“Castiel is just a kid! He doesn’t know what he’s doing!” Gabriel retorted, ignoring the blush that came to his cheeks, his voice getting defensively louder.

 

“Actually, Gabriel, I believe I am in fact two years or more older than Sam....”

 

“Stay out of this!” Gabriel snapped, “Dean Winchester, you are going to take full responsibility for this baby, you’re going to step up to the mark and be there whenever Cas needs you, you’re going to be on call day and night-”

 

“You’re just jealous that you’re not the only super-special snow-flake anymore,” Dean said and from the way Gabriel’s posture changed it was clear to see Dean had hit a sore spot.

 

“Gabriel-“ Castiel tried again, a gentle hand going to Gabriel’s jabbing finger, trying to ease it away from Dean’s sternum. “Dean and I have talked and we have-“

 

“He called me a fucking gold-digger, Cas! A Gold-digger! And now look at him! Does he know how much you make, Castiel? Don’t you dare start buying that low-life anything! He doesn’t dese-“

 

Gabriel stopped. Not because he’d been interrupted, or because he’d been physically pulled away from Dean.  He stopped because suddenly, without warning, his hands had gone to his belly, and a look of intense, horrible pain had crossed over his face.

 

Sam’s arms were around Gabriel before he could start slipping to the floor, holding Gabriel close to his chest, close enough to hear the low, keening noise of pain, peppered with louder curses, some of them Sam had never heard before. But he didn’t have time to feel anything but cold dread in his stomach. Gabriel was still weeks away from his due date. They hadn’t made the appointment for the c-section yet.

 

“Get a nurse, Dean!” Sam shouted, a rush of anger in his words, spurred on by fear at the sight of Dean just stood there, open-mouthed like some bystander at a train crash.  Castiel looked like he was going to fall over himself, white as a sheet. He was murmuring something, but whatever it was, Sam didn’t care. He had Gabriel to worry about, and the noises of pain he was making weren’t going away.

 

And then there were nurses, maybe just two although Sam was unaware of how many of them there were, moving around to talk to Gabriel and try and peel him from where he’d curled, clutching at Sam’s shirt. _Father_? one of them asked him, and he managed to only nod, everything a mass of movement around him, a young nurse in scrubs herding everyone else away, Dean and Castiel included, while his colleague spoke to Gabriel in low, reassuring tones. They were going to get him into a room, she promised, they were going to make sure the baby was fine, there was nothing to worry about. He didn’t have to move, just stay still, and take a deep breath....

 

* * *

 

 

They’d given Gabriel painkillers, and sedatives, and put him in a private room towards the quieter end of the ward. It had helped, or at least, it seemed to have helped, Sam didn’t know exactly. But from where he was sat at Gabriel’s bedside, watching him sleep, he looked better, more peaceful than he had done since Sam had got back. Gabriel hadn’t been sleeping well, unable to get very comfortable in bed or even curled up in one of his overstuffed arm-chairs. 

 

Castiel was the one who would know what was going on. He was talking to a doctor now, outside, and Sam could just about hear the murmur of their voices- Castiel’s too low to really catch any of the words.  And then they faded, and stopped all together, footsteps clicking on tiles.

 

“Sam?” Castiel knocked, before shuffled into the room, settling down on the other plastic chairs. He didn’t speak again, just sat back, watching his brother, just as Sam had done. Castiel was the quiet one, the one who seemed to think before he spoke, but he didn’t seem to be thinking now. He seemed just to be sad, guilty even.

 

Sam let a moment or two pass, but he’d been worried, unable to stop thinking and he wanted to know what was going on. Castiel knew, so why wasn’t he telling? Was it that bad, or was he just sitting there? “Castiel? What did the doctor say?”

 

Gabriel’s brother shifted, straightening up and forcing his eyes away from the sleeping figure. “Gabriel is... Gabriel is well enough; there is nothing wrong with the baby. But his blood pressure is very high, that and his age... well, the doctor advised me that he would like Gabriel to stay here, perhaps for the next two weeks or so, to monitor him.”

 

Sam nodded, letting all that sink in. High blood pressure? Anyone who spent time near Dean ended up with that soon enough, but... “His age? Castiel, how old is your brother?”

 

“Gabriel is forty-one. Eleven years your senior, I believe. But there are larger age-gaps in successful relationships.”

 

It wasn’t that odd,  could it even be called encouragement,  that threw Sam off. Castiel couldn’t have known how old he was. He frowned, hoping that Castiel would take that as a hint and explain, rather than leaving Sam to worry over this new-found piece of information. Castiel was already looking back at Gabriel though, his blue eyes sad again. Sam coughed, clearing his throat till he had the other’s attention again. “Castiel, how do you know how old I am?”

 

“Oh! It’s simple enough. Dean is thirty-four years of age. He has mentioned that you are younger than him by four years, ego, you are thirty. Well, actually he said that you were in 8th grade when he was a senior and from that I assumed....”

 

“Okay Cas, that’s okay,” Sam muttered, even if Castiel seemed distracted by the explanation, Sam wasn’t able to concentrate. High blood pressure sounded... well, it was normal enough. Gabriel could have rested at home, that was no problem. But if they thought his age was going to bring about complications too, then making him stay only seemed logical. Sam didn’t like it though; he didn’t like the idea of Gabriel being stuck here. He’d drive everyone mad.

 

**37 WEEKS**

**“At this stage probably feel restless and eager to meet your baby, you may even have decided on a name by now.”**

“Nope.”

 

“Gabriel, don’t be unreasonable. It’s a nice name. Mary is a nice, normal girl’s name.” Sam was reaching the end of his tether. Gabriel was still in hospital, still forced to stay in bed and supported with what seemed like every spare pillow in the ward, probably in the wing. Even with that bump, he seemed dwarfed in that bed, by the pile of pillows.

 

Although when he opened his mouth he didn’t seem small or delicate in the slightest. He wasn’t used to sitting back and doing nothing unless it was on his own terms, and in desperation, some of the nursing staff had brought Gabriel some baby name books from their station, and he’d been going through them all morning. It was just Sam’s luck that he was visiting now, when Gabriel was beginning to get irritated and difficult.

 

“That’s exactly _why_ I don’t like it, Sam. It’s normal and boring.”

 

That made Sam stiffen. “It was my mother’s name.”

 

He expected that to at least make Gabriel apologize, but it didn’t. The small man just seemed to shrink a little deeper into the cushions. “But this is your daughter, not your mom. And I’m not naming the baby after anyone. She’s going to be her own person. And she’s not having a weird religious name,” Gabriel added that as an afterthought, in a low, dark mutter. “Religious names suck.”

 

“But you and Castiel-” Sam said, and then realized that he’d spoken without thinking at the very moment that Gabriel looked up and gave him a look. A look that plainly said _do I have to spell this out for you_?  “No religious names then.”

 

Gabriel beamed, glad that Sammy had finally agreed on something.  Sam couldn’t help but be glad too, in a strange way. While it wasn’t exactly an argument, or a fight, just some little disagreement that they’d have both forgotten soon enough... each and every little disagreement they had made him all that more keen to just have the baby here already and get it all over and done with. He was tired, Gabriel was tired. And Gabriel was the one forced to stay in bed, as if the back pain and the sickness and the waddling wasn’t enough to restrict his movements.

 

But they still hadn’t settled on any sort of name. “We should think about boy’s names too, Gabriel. Just in case. There's no guarantee with these things....”

 

“No, Sam. It's a girl. I told you I knew, and I do, alright? I've got this feeling and... I just know. Don't push it.”

 

Whatever Sam was going to say in reply to that he wasn't sure, but before he even got a chance to open his mouth, there was a knock on the door. It was hesitant, not the sort of knock that said _I'm coming in whether you like it or not, this is just an announcement_ but a knock that said really, whoever was on the other side was more than a little nervous about coming in.

 

“I don't bite unless you want me to,” Gabriel called, looking back to Sammy with a flirtatious grin, brows moving up and down suggestively. Neither of them were aware of any more doctor's visits that were due that day, no more nurses here to check blood and temperature and iron levels and the rest. That's why they'd spread books and magazines all over, Gabriel had empty and half-empty bottles of  juice all over.

 

It was Castiel who peeped nervously around the door, wearing a grin that betrayed how guilty he still felt about the situation. He was looking a little rounder himself now, although Sam knew Castiel wasn’t talking about his own pregnancy anywhere near Gabriel, perhaps for fear he’d be accused of stealing Gabriel’s lime-light. Sam knew that wasn’t about to happen, Gabriel would just take it right back. He’d been playing up since he’d got here, making the nurses’ lives difficult, flirting with them and teasing them and making everyone run around for him. Sam didn’t know how he did it.

 

“Cas, you don’t have to knock,” Sam told him, piling up some of the books up and moving them to the sideboard, making space for Gabriel’s visitor.

 

“I told him not to interrupt you two when you were alone. Especially if there’s biting going on.”

 

That made Sam look up, startled, but Gabriel perked up completely at the sound, almost trying to get out of bed. “Kali!”

 

“I can’t believe you went into hospital and didn’t even bother to tell me, Gabriel. I’ve been calling and calling your house and getting no answer. I was beginning to think you wanted me to worry,”  the woman said as she pushed beyond Castiel with a grin, bee-lining for Gabriel and pushing him back onto the pillows with her embrace. She was small, slim and dark, petite even compared to Gabriel but the woman’s presence seemed to fill the room; the brightness of her jewelry and her shirt clashing with the paleness of everything else around her; with Castiel’s suit and Sam’s jeans and jacket and the off-white sheets.  Everything about her demanded to be center of attention, and Sam could suddenly see why two people like them might be attracted together, than repelled.   They were surprisingly similar, even if Kali was clearly very beautiful and Gabriel... perhaps less classically so. But it was Gabriel he watched, Gabriel’s smile that made him smile, even if he only noticed it a moment later.

 

“Sam,” Kali called, making him half-jump with surprise. She gestured over, pointing him to a space on the other side of the bed, closer to Gabriel than she was sat. “We need to have a serious discussion. I’ve been told not to ask if you’re getting married....”   Over her shoulder, in one of the chairs in the corner of the room, Sam saw Castiel beginning to fidget. Dean was telling him about their conversations now? “And I’d advise you not to, Gabriel steals all over covers.”

 

“He knows that already.” Gabriel sounded smug, making a protesting noise when he was gently elbowed in the side. “Are you denying it now?”

 

Sam sighed. “No. But I don’t think that was what Kali wanted to talk to us about. She doesn’t want to know the details about....”

 

“I already know,” she said with a conspiratorial smirk, ignoring the sound of Castiel’s embarrassed shuffling, “But we’ll discuss that later. No, boys, I want to discuss my position as aunt. And find out your opinion on Tiger cubs as christening presents....”

 

By the time Kali left to head back to her hotel, Sam felt a little shell-shocked. At some point during their conversation, Gabriel had tugged him fully into the narrow hospital bed and had settled under his arm.  He’d done it before in the privacy of his home, or on the sofa at Sam’s apartment, but this was in front of other people. But he hadn’t pulled away, just settled back and enjoyed the pressure of Gabriel against him. Kali had said it was adorable and had taken a photo, disregarding any and all protests.

 

Now though it was fairly quiet, not long before the end of visiting hours. Sam hadn’t fully realized that he was dozing with Gabriel still against him till he felt the smaller man shift uncomfortably against him. “Move it, Sasquash. The ‘Bean wants to stretch her legs.”

 

“I think we had better go, and leave you to your rest,” Castiel murmured, appearing at the end of the bed with his coat over his arm, one hand gently resting on his side, fingers just touching the bulge of his stomach. “Dean will be home soon,” he added, almost as an afterthought, and even while untangling himself from Gabriel’s sheets, he felt the other man in the bed shift uneasily.

 

“Sam? Can you give me and Castiel a moment?”

 

“Gabriel, is this really the time for....”

 

“Out, Sammy. This is brother talk.”

 

Sam couldn’t argue with that, as much as he’d like to. Dean and he had had enough _brother talk_ over the last few months, and as he gave Castiel what he hoped was a supportive look as they passed, he couldn’t help but think the conversation that he and Gabriel would have now would almost exactly paraphrase one he’d had with Dean not long ago.

 

“Has he moved in with you?” Gabriel asked in a whisper, just before Sam reached the doors. He expected the short man to sound angry, a little ball of contained agitation, but instead he sounded rather hopeful.

 

“He said that it was... a trial. To see if we were compat-”

 

That was the last thing Sam heard, before the door shut behind him, and the conversation was impossible to overhear.

 

 

**39 WEEKS**

**“You probably beginning to wake up every morning wondering whether today will be ‘the day’”**

 

“SAM!”

 

Sam had never heard anyone shot so loud. Dean was the only one who had come close, and that had been a strained, half-crazy noise when Sam had been learning to drive in Dean’s car and had accidentally bumped into another car. There hadn’t been any damage, he’d not been going fast enough, but the sound that had come out of Dean made it seem like he had been physically attacked.

 

That was how Gabriel sounded now, strained and pained, angry even. Sam could tell all that even though he couldn’t see Gabriel, even from where he stood down the far end of the corridor, waiting for the coffee machine to finish dispensing his latte.  He was running back towards Gabriel’s room even before the machine started its irritating beeping, the screen flashing _remove drink._

 

“What? What is it?” Sam managed, catching the edge of the door to stop himself, sliding into the room. Gabriel had been on-edge for days, even though he was still a week from his due date. The doctors and nurses said it was just nerves, and Sam was beginning to worry that the staff considered Gabriel the boy who cried wolf.

 

But this time the look on Gabriel’s face was different, twisted and uncomfortable and he was breathing deep and hard, knuckles white as his fingers curled into the sheets. Sudden cold panic hit Sam square in the chest, sweat peppering his back.

 

“The baby? Gabriel, the Cesarean isn’t booked until next Tuesday!”

 

“No one sent Jellybean that memo!” Gabriel bit back, and then collapsed down onto the sheets, making a horrible grunt as his hands went to his belly. Sam was there in a heartbeat, his hands trembling and it took a moment before he managed to press the call button for the nurses properly, focused on trying to get Gabriel to breathe more regularly. He was panting, whimpering between each inhale and each outward breath seemed to send him into a spasm of pain, still clutching his stomach.

 

The door opened like an explosion, the duty-nurse forcing Gabriel to uncurl so she could touch him, hands firm on the bump, ignoring the way he cursed. 

 

“Is it...?” Sam found himself asking, even as the woman shifted to take Gabriel’s pulse, glancing up as she was spoken to. Her name badge flashed as she moved, catching the light. “The baby, I mean? Nurse Milligan?”

 

“Looks like it. Little early, but babies rarely come on time. They’re either keen to get out and meet you, or they’re fashionably late and make an entrance,” she said, and then smiled, and that more than the words calmed Sam’s fears. “If baby takes after you, then I’m sure a couple of days aren’t going to make any difference. It’ll probably be bigger than most of the full-term little ones we’ve had.”

 

Sam nodded, trying not to blush and moved out of her way as she moved closer to Gabriel, guiding his breathing, in and out, in and out, until he seemed a little less panicked, although his eyes were still wide as saucers, and he reached for Sam’s hand, clutching at it tightly.

 

“You boys will be fine,” the nurse said, standing straight again, “That baby isn’t about to rip itself out of you.  I’ll get the doctor and the team now. Just keep breathing, it helps with the pain.”

 

Gabriel nodded, trying to push himself up on his elbows, squeezing at Sam’s hand even harder than before.

 

“It’s okay, Gabriel. It’s all okay,” Sam said, keeping a tight hold on Gabriel’s fingers, free hand touching his cheek. “It’ll be over really soon, alright? Really soon? And I’ll take you and Jellybean home, alright? And we’ll have a brilliant party.”

 

There was a breathless laugh, one twinged with pain but a laugh all the same. “Is there going to be unpasteurized cheese? And peanut butter. Sam, I want peanut butter,” Gabriel said, and tugged, bringing Sam closer, kissing him hard.

 

It was a beautiful, breathless kiss, sudden and unexpected. It broke when another spasm of pain went through Gabriel, but he seemed to ignore it, reaching up to knot his fingers in Sam’s hair. “But no matter how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you make me, I am never letting you bring that dick of yours near me ever again.”

 

The next shudder of pain was sooner, leaving Gabriel clutching at Sam again, and Sam’s hand feeling as if it had been trapped in a vice.

 

“You can put him down now, Mr Novak, the cavalry have arrived,” Nurse Milligan said, back in the room once more and holding the door open for two porters, before coming closer herself with a tray, taking Gabriel’s arm and cleaning the inside of his elbow with some sort of sterilizing wipe. “We’re going to take you down to Operating Room and the anesthetist, and Mr. Winchester can wait for you and the baby outside. You’re going to do brilliantly, I’m sure of it. Both of you just can’t wait to get out of here.”

 

Gabriel nodded, but didn’t let go of Sam, clutching harder in fact as the nurse found a vein and sank in the butterfly for the IV. “Hate needles,” He mouthed, but only at Sammy, letting his grip relax once it was done, but still clearly not wanting to let go.  He was trying to hide it, but in those bright amber eyes there was a spark of fear.

 

“Are you sure I can’t be in the OR with him?” Sam asked, hoping that the pleading note in his voice and Gabriel’s imploring expression would somehow make a difference. But it didn’t. He wasn’t allowed, he knew that. He’d been told that when they’d booked for Jellybean’s expected due date and why should it be different now? The situation was stressful enough.

 

“It won’t be long though, I promise. We’ll have you and the baby out before dinner time, alright? And I’ll be in there with you,” The nurse promised, and then the porters moved in, helping ease Gabriel onto the trolley.

 

Their hands only parted for a moment, but as soon as Sam was in reach again, Gabriel grabbed his wrist, hanging on.

 

“It’s okay, Gabriel. It’s okay,” Sam promised, keeping his voice low and reassuring, hurrying alongside as they moved towards the operating room. He knew it would be alright, everything logical said it would be. Bed-rest had been good for Gabriel, even if half the staff had taken emergency leave, and as much as they’d said his age would be a problem,  as well as his high blood pressure and sugar-filled diet, he’d been lucky. Hardly anything had gone wrong and this would be just as easy. Sam had been reading up. Gabriel hadn’t been, but maybe it was different if it was your abdomen the books mentioned being opened up.

 

“I know. I know. I’m just nervous,” Gabriel managed back, before cursing loudly enough to make the nurse look at him with concern. “I’d just like to hurry this up. Jellybean’s making a pretty big fuss about meeting you properly.”  And despite the pain he was clearly in, Gabriel flashed one of his usual grins up at Sam as he was wheeled in to the anesthetist.  “See.... I told her that you were a pretty awesome guy. That you’re going to be the best dad a girl can have.”

 

“I’ll try to live up to that,” Sam answered, heart suddenly beating ten times harder.

 

“I’m going to make sure you do, Sasquash.”

 

And then there was a hand on Sam’s shoulder, keeping him outside as the doors were closed.

 

 

For several long moments, Sam stood, numb and buzzing all at once, his heartbeat hammering through his body and his stomach doing somersaults. And then the pressure on his shoulder relaxed, easing off.

 

“You and your boyfriend are very lucky to have each other,” the nurse said, gesturing him towards some seats, and magazines obviously thumbed by people too anxious to read.

 

“We aren’t... no, you’re right, we are. We’re very lucky,” Sam agreed, and remained standing, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sit still. He was suddenly feeling as high as a kite, fidgety and restless. She seemed to understand.

 

“Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I can. No doubt you have some phone-calls you want to make.”

 

And he did. He had to call everyone.

 

Dean first. He was on speed-dial, and it was too late in the evening for him to be at work.

 

“Sammy?” he answered, on the second ring, and there was a note of concern in his voice. “What is it?”

 

“Are you with Castiel? Baby’s on her way. Gabriel’s just gone into OR so you might want to head on over. And pick up Kali from her hotel and bring her down. Gabriel wants her here,” Sam said,  feeling a little breathless now, and he stepped backwards, the back of his legs hitting a chair and he sank down. “Dean. Dean, I’m going to be a dad.”

 

The last part was barely said, his voice breaking and he thought he’d realized it before, he thought he’d acknowledged it and understood what Gabriel’s pregnancy meant. He thought he was prepared, but now the moment was there, he didn’t think he was prepared at all.

 

“ _Sam? Sammy?_ ” Dean was calling out, concern in his voice again.

 

Seconds had passed, his brother had probably been talking but Sam hadn’t heard or seen anything, apart from the images in his head, the little kid he was going to teach to read and write and was going to play with, evenings curled up, all three of them on the couch with some tooth-rottingly sweet popcorn between them.  It seemed perfect. “I’m okay Dean. Just get over here as soon as you can. But be careful with Castiel!”

 

Dean promised he would be, but they arrived less than forty-five minutes later with Kali in tow, and that meant Dean couldn’t have obeyed the speed limit very much at all. “Is it here yet?” he asked, rushing forward but still managing to hold the door open for Castiel, forcing Kali to open it for herself, pulling an unimpressed face as she did so. But even so they all seemed anxious, excited. None of them could match Sam though, and the horde of butterflies in his stomach. These things only took thirty minutes if all went well. Gabriel had been in there almost an hour. Why hadn’t they called for him? What was wrong?

 

“Not yet. But it can take a while,” Sam began, and then took a breath. “He’s just been in there... a long while. I thought the baby would be here by now but... I don’t know.”

 

Castiel seemed to share his worry, his lips pressing together in a thin line of concern. “I’m sure everything is fine, Sam,” he said, glancing at Dean.

 

“Yeah. I mean, it can take half an hour for the spinal-epidural to kick in, so he might only be delivering now.”

 

Sam blinked. It was Dean who has spoken, but the words that came tumbling out of his mouth seemed... so unlike his brother than he couldn’t exactly believe what he’d heard. Castiel appeared to be just as surprised, looking at Dean with a strange, unreadable expression.

 

“I thought I should read-up on it. You know,” Dean muttered, his hands sliding into his pockets, embarrassed by the amount of attention he was receiving.

 

Castiel smiled then, reaching out to brush his fingers over the sleeve of Dean’s jacket.

 

Before anyone could fill the silence that followed though, there was a noise from the double-doors that Gabriel had been taken through. Nurse Milligan was stood there, a bright smile on her face as she caught Sam’s eye. “Congratulations, Mr. Winchester. You have a very beautiful little girl. They’ll be out in the recovery room in just a few minutes. You can all go and say hello, but not for long alright?” And with that she disappeared again, gesturing to the next door down.

 

There was the heavy weight of Dean’s hand against Sam’s shoulder, reassuring and warm, squeezing slightly. “Go on, Sam,” he murmured, Castiel and Kali nodding too, although it was clear that both of them could hardly restrain themselves.

 

“Give us a few minutes, okay?”

 

Kali’s disappointment was obvious in the slump of her shoulders, but she straightened her back, stepped forward, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You give him that for me straight away.”

 

He dipped his head, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “I will do.” And then he reached out, pushing open the door and stepping in. He was directed through another door by a staff-nurse, and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. His baby. His little girl. And Gabriel. Behind that door, waiting for him, perfect and beautiful.

 

The orderlies were just leaving, the nurse bustling around again as Sam shut the door behind him with a gentle click. 

 

“Sam-I-Am?” Gabriel murmured, voice as quiet as a whisper, clearly tired but with all of his usual excitement and enthusiasm, and far more reverence than usual. His hair was pushed back from his face and his skin was still pale, the color slowly returning to his cheeks. In his arm was a little bundle wrapped up in a yellow blanket, small and pink and making the softest of murmurs. “Someone wants to meet you.”

 

There was something in his throat, something Sam had to swallow around, before he got his feet to take him forwards. But when they finally obeyed, they took him across the room faster than he’d ever been before, leaning in against Gabriel’s side, careful of the child in his arms and the sheets carefully tucked around him, kissing him on the cheek. “From Kali,” he said, and then kissed Gabriel again, hand stroking down the line of his jaw. “And that’s from me. Oh Gabriel....”

 

“Shush,” Gabriel breathed, shuffling as much as his body would allow, letting Sam half-sit next to him, and pressing the little one closer.

 

She wasn’t big, Sam had expected something larger with all the comments he’d received about babies with big daddies being big themselves. But she hardly filled Gabriel’s arms, her little fists balled and close to her little red cheeks, eyes screwed tightly closed. She wasn’t asleep, not that Sam could tell, those little noises still falling from her tiny mouth. “Oh God, Gabriel, she’s perfect.”

 

The snort he had in reply was teasing, Gabriel gently passing her over, “Of course she is. We made her,” Gabriel told him, a smile pulling over his features as he watched Sam take hold of their baby, cradling her up to his chest. “That’s it, Sammy, just like that. Support her head.”

 

Sam swallowed again, bowing his head down and pressing the lightest kiss he could manage against her head, against the soft, pale hair there. “Have you got a name?” Sam whispered, no idea why he had to be so quiet, it just felt like a moment that shouldn’t be peppered with noise.

 

“Coco.”

 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, he realized, at another ridiculous suggestion. But the child shifted then, moving in his arms and as stupid as it sounded, Sam could see it. It suited her, somehow. “Coco it is.” Sam grinned, kissing her cheek again before meeting Gabriel’s eyes. The small man was still grinning that slow, tired grin as he leaned forward, his fingers catching in Sam’s hair for another kiss.

 

“Coco Novak,” He said as they parted again, and Sam could do nothing but agree.

 

 

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v294/lynndyre/?action=view&current=GabrielCoco_colour.jpg)

 

**EPILOGUE**

**6 Months Later**

 

“Aw baby, you look so pretty!” Gabriel was cooing, Coco sat on his lap with his hands carefully placed under her arms. She was dressed in a shirt with shredded sleeves and a cardboard pirate hat, waving her chubby arms in the air and laughing, and that made Gabriel laugh too, despite the chaos around them.

 

Sam was on the phone, talking loud over the noise of Dean’s shouting, panicked as he rushed up and down the stairs throwing everything and anything into a bag. The two brothers seemed to be everywhere at once, following each other or colliding as one tried to go up the stairs and the other tried to come down; Sam attempting to pull out the unnecessary things Dean had packed while Dean tried to shove another towel into the other pocket. They’d been rushing around for the last twenty minutes, ever since Dean had rushed back from the hospital to pick up Castiel’s bag, the birth of their son apparently immanent.

 

But unlike Sam who’d organized everything beforehand, who had a hospital bag for Gabriel in the hallway, in the car, one at the bottom of the bed, Dean had done nothing. He’d told Castiel everything was ready but nothing had been prepared. It was as if Sam had been too organized and the universe was trying to balance itself out somehow.

 

“Shouldn’t we be going?” Gabriel called out, getting up off the sofa and carrying the little one in his arms. The two Winchesters stopped, looking over to Gabriel and while Dean stood still and startled for a moment longer, it was enough for Sam to take the bag from him and close it, and end his call.

 

“Doctors say so, yes. Castiel says he isn’t going to go anywhere until Dean is there.” Then he paused, face twisting slightly as he tried desperately not to laugh, “And their Birthing Shaman called the hospital, she’s stuck in traffic.” 

 

“Birthing Shaman?”  Gabriel repeated, his own tone disbelieving as he handed Coco’s bag over to Sam, but Dean was already out the door and halfway to his car, striding away from their questions, his back unusually straight, like he had nothing to be ashamed of.

 

They weaseled an answer out of him in the car; that Castiel didn’t want drugs, he didn’t think they were good for the baby. He wanted to do things _naturally_ as far as possible, and Dean had just agreed, even if the whole thing was weird and the Shaman woman creeped him out. But it was what Castiel wanted, and when he wanted something he could be just as stubborn as Dean.  Gabriel liked to say that was what made them so well suited to each other, although neither Castiel or Dean had ever been too impressed with the comment.

 

But whatever the glue was that was holding the two together, it was impressive. They’d barely pulled into the hospital parking lot when Dean slowed to an almost stop, opened his door and dived out, running towards the doors. Dean didn’t let anyone drive his car, it was a fact of life, but apparently today the world was suspending its usual rules. Sam had no choice but to park, grab Deans bag from the trunk and walk with Gabriel and their daughter a few minutes later.

 

By the time they were there, Coco gurgling at the nurses that hadn’t seen her in six months, Dean was nowhere to be found, and they had no choice to settle down and wait with a group of anxious looking fathers-to-be. 

 

It seemed like hours, with Coco soon getting bored and irritated about being fussed over, bored of being a dread pirate and bored of being sat up in her carry-seat. That was when the crying started, a horrible wailing cry that forced Gabriel to get her out and take her for a walk around the building, murmuring that she was going to miss meeting her cousin and leaving Sam in the waiting room to look apologetic and embarrassed. Not that he had to wait long, not before Dean was back, looking exhausted, skin shiny with sweat and shaking his hand like he’d punched someone. “Oh god Dean,” Sam hissed, getting to his feet, “Please tell me you haven’t hit someone. Where’s Cas? How’s the baby?”

 

Dean gave a tired snort, still shaking out his hand, not looking pleased. “Michael’s taking his time getting here. I think Cas broke my hand though, that last contraction.  One of the nurses offered him gas and air and now he wants every drug they can give him. He’s as high as a kite.” Sam could have laughed, but Dean’s expression didn’t change.

 

“There’s no way that’s going to do Cas or the baby any harm Dean. They’ll be fine.  It’s medically sound. Between this and a Birthing Shaman, honestly? This is probably the least painful option for Cas.”

 

There wasn’t anything Dean could say to that, but he did open his mouth to say something, to try and argue, but he got no opportunity. “Mr. Dean Winchester?”  a nurse called, already decked out in scrubs. “It’s time you got ready.”

 

Sam raised a hand, patting his brother on the shoulder, “Go on. Cas will be fine.”

 

Dean nodded, sucking in a breath, and turned back towards the nurse, heading after him through one of the white double-doors.  At least for the next hour at least Dean would be too busy and too excited to really spend his time worrying about pseudo-science.

 

Dean could worry about anything and everything though, and once Gabriel had returned with a very tired Coco in his arms, Sam settled down with him to wait it out. It could really take much longer though, could it? Coco had been born very quickly but then again, he’d been with Gabriel most of the time, close-by, not asked to sit and wait it out from the word go.

 

“Yeah kiddo,” Gabriel murmured, reaching out and knotting his fingers into Sam’s, stopping his fidgeting.  “Take a breath. You’re acting like this is your baby you’re waiting for.”

 

“Sorry. I guess... I guess it’s just exciting, you know? I want to make sure they’re all okay in there.”

 

“They’ll be fine. Cas has been doing breathing exercises for months.”

 

Sam had to accept that. As far as things went, Castiel was the one who had prepared. He’d gone to classes, he’d researched things, he’d done what he could to prepare. Gabriel had just mulled through, picked up information here and there but he’d been fine, despite all possible complications. He just had to wait and be patient. He squeezed Gabriel’s hand, smiling at him, and gave a nod. Castiel and his baby would be fine. It was just Dean’s freak out that was contagious.

 

They sat together in silence then, Gabriel leant up against Sam’s shoulder, their daughter happily asleep in the carry-chair. It seemed for a while that Gabriel was going to fall asleep too,  even though it had been Sam that had got up during the night this time and Gabriel had slept right through.  With Gabriel’s warm breath against his neck it would have been easy enough in any other circumstances for Sam to have drifted off too, but there was no one to watch Coco, and there was still a slight churning in his belly, nerves that had not yet been calmed and probably wouldn’t be till this was all over.

 

He found himself leaning back in the chair, an arm curled around Gabriel’s shoulder, watching the baby suck her thumb when there was movement towards them. She moved hesitantly, but when Sam sat up a little she smiled and approached more confidently. “I didn’t want to disturb you but you can go and see your nephew now.”

 

She waited a moment while Sam nudged Gabriel back into consciousness, flushing slightly when the man murmured _not again Sammy, no more tonight._ Gabriel never murmured in his sleep, he’d clearly only been dozing, heard the nurse arrive and decided to embarrass Sam just for a joke.  But it was going to take more than that to wind Sam up today, although he did nudge Gabriel a little harder in the ribs in retaliation. “You don’t want to go meet Michael then?”

 

That got Gabriel up almost faster than an offer of Starbucks for breakfast, and everything gathered up in double-quick time, Gabriel carrying Coco and Sam carrying the bags, the nurse leading them down the corridor, to the door that was carefully closed. Despite that Dean’s voice could be heard beyond, a low gruff murmur and Castiel’s familiar voice, strained slightly and certainly not its usual careful consistent tone.

 

Castiel didn’t look himself either, a wide grin on his face and his eyes too bright. He almost tried to get up and out of the bed when Sam and Gabriel stepped in but Dean’s hand on his shoulder and lead-weight ache throughout his body seemed to stop him.

 

“Drugs,” Dean explained, the expression saying everything.

 

“They wear off.” Gabriel snorted, setting the carry-chair down on the foot of the bed so he could settle on the edge, murmuring something to his brother as Dean gestured Sam away and out the door.

 

“Come on, come meet Mikey.”

 

“Mikey? I thought Castiel had veto’d that,” Sam said, heading down the corridor towards the window by the little nursery.

 

“I know, he had. But I’m telling you Sammy, he was as high as a kite. Soon as they handed him over, Cas was calling him Mikey.”

 

“If that goes down as being official, you’re going to be on the couch for the next five years.”

 

Dean snorted, but didn’t say anything else, not for a second, not while he raised a hand and pointed at the tiny pale boy two cribs from the right, in the first row. “That’s my son.”

 

“Poor kid,” Sam said, with so much feeling that Dean turned on him. “He looks just like you Dean.”

 

That earned him a punch on the shoulder, playfully hard.  “You’ve been living with that janitor too long. I’m not going to let you get away with that.”

 

“Whatever.  Honestly? Congratulations,” Sam replied, offering his hand out for Dean to shake,  but his brother pulled him into a bear-hug instead.

 

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v294/lynndyre/?action=view&current=PirateCoco_colour.jpg)


End file.
